Hard Enough Left
by NurfHurdur
Summary: -You'll find yourself turning right. The rise and fall of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Humanized.
1. Late Summer 1950

**AN: The idea for this story started probably around 11 years ago...wow...I researched NASCAR, Doc's real name changed at least once until I had posted the short 'excerpt' that now is the first chapter of** ** _Life's Highway_** **about two years ago. The whole thing took a drastic shift in time line and plot just within the last few weeks and I've never even put pen to paper aside from note taking!**

* * *

 **Late Summer 1950**

Ruth turned up the radio as she passed through the kitchen and glanced out the window over the kitchen sink. Thankfully the humidity had broken over night and she'd spent the morning airing out the house, every window was open and the breeze that swept through the homestead was Heaven sent. Humming to herself, she eyed the garden against the treeline at the back of the property. It needed some attention, later that evening she'd be able to get out there. She was feeling up to it. Jesse took good care of it, when he could, but it was too big for one person and he couldn't do it all, as much as she knew he refused to admit.

She turned from the sink and tested the edges of the cake pan she'd set on the cooling rack before reaching for the bowl of icing she'd just finished whisking together. Pausing, she let the bowl clatter onto the counter and shouted across the house even while still staring at the cake.

"Jesse Hudson!"

Her twin had been passing by the doorway on the back porch and peeked into the kitchen before leaning his shoulder against the door frame, hands behind his back.

"Yes, Ruth Hudson."

"This was supposed to be a surprise for Henry!"

"It won't be?"

"I don't get to make things like this often-"

"How did you, anyway?" He didn't know they had that much flour and sugar, or _cocoa_ lying around.

"I saved it all. Why do you think we've been eating bland meats and vegetables for three weeks?"

"Oh..." He raised both brows, drawing out the word.

"You ruined it!"

"You wanted it to be a surprise, right?"

"Yes."

"Well." He shrugged a shoulder with a lopsided grin. "He'll be surprised."

"Ugh, get out of here."

He'd started laughing before she had even replied and turned away from the door to hustle down the steps, bringing his hand around to his front to break a piece off the square slice of cake and pop it in his mouth. He laughed agian, getting into their barely legal pickup when he heard her shout in the house again.

"You could have at least taken an edge piece! Why did you take it from the middle!"

"Where's the fun in that?" He muttered, starting the truck.

His expression sobered as he left the driveway and drove through Thomasville. He hadn't mentioned it to Ruth yet, but the final paperwork on their mother's estate had finally cleared. Between the three siblings they'd get a fairly decent amount but it wasn't going to last long with the medical bills that had piled up on the counter. He hadn't opened any yet, he'd been afraid to. Jesse needed something better than some little part-time job that wouldn't even pay him enough to get back and forth to work.

He pulled into the lot and jumped out of the truck, drumming his hands on the lintel of the open door as he approached his brother's small office space, it was more like a closet attached to the garage.

"Best _darn_ garage in town?" He raised a brow.

"Hey. Too many families with small kids and young mother's bring their business here for my sign to say something else."

Henry Hudson had somehow been labeled _Smokey_ through the years, hence _Smokey's Best Darn Garage In Town._ Jesse was one of the very few people who still addressed him by his real name.

"Aha." He looked around the corner to the car that was currently being worked on while getting straight to the point. "Do you think I could take the Ford on Saturday?"

"What's happening Saturday?" Smokey asked hesitantly.

"I might have signed up for the night race."

"Might have."

"Might have as in _did._ I did sign up."

"You know, maybe you could have mentioned this to the rest of us a little sooner-"

"I only signed up this morning! C'moooon Henry, what's the worst thing that could happen."

His older brother stared at him, and it looked eerily reminiscent of the faint memories Jesse had of their father when he was displeased.

"Well loss of the registration fee, for one."

"But the purse is five hundred! Five dollars is worth that."

"Unless you're taken out on a stretcher."

"It's going to be fine."

Their staring match ended with Smokey taking the keys off the wall above his desk. "Fine. You've lost that five dollars anyway."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet."

He took a deep breath and sighed as he watched his brother switch out of the beaten pickup for his car. He knew Jesse's heart was in the right place, but did they need to really use the more dangerous routes to obtain money? His car left the lot before he turned back to the car he'd just started working on.

"You better do well."

* * *

Jesse spent the rest of the afternoon at Thomasville Speedway. Gritting his teeth, he handed over his last few bucks just to be able to sit in the grandstand seating. The regular bleachers were free, but you couldn't see anything from there. He wasn't interested in listening to a bunch of men complain about how they'd lost money on the last race, or where they were placing their next bets anyway. He was there to see the cars.

He shifted and moved down a row, having originally found a spot that caught a glare off the spotlights in the infield. Dust hung in the air and he cleared his throat before resting his elbows on his knees, watching the cars come around the nearest turn.

"Surprised these drivers don't end up with some form of black lung." He heard someone behind him say.

Jesse tuned the rest of the world out, focusing solely on the atmosphere of the track below him, from the way the sun reflected off the windshields, to the lost paint colors of the cars as they were covered in dirt, to the tracks they left behind them as they passed over the ground, the heat that rose off the track, aside from the fact that it was summer in Georgia, the sound of the engines as each car dug in and found purchase in the soft earth, the occasional stone that was thrown and even the sound of metal on metal as a few drivers played a little dirty.

He got up from his spot in the middle of the stands and picked his way through groups of people until he was standing down at the fence. He rested his arms on the half wall and ducked his head, closing his eyes against the wind and dirt kicked up by the cars as they flashed by at dizzying speeds. Looking up again he caught the tail end of the pack rounding the first turn.

He wanted to be out there, snaking his way through the pack, dodging and weaving, hell even getting pushed around by other drivers meant _something_ right? He wanted a car of his own, something he wouldn't be afraid to get the paint scuffed on and wouldn't have to return to someone else once he was across the finish line. He wanted something that could be recognized, something that you'd take a single glance at and think _"That's Jesse Hudson's car"_.

He didn't necessarily want fame, just to be recognized for being _good_ at something.

Jesse grinned faintly as the cars came around the turn toward him again, the engines much louder up close than when you're sitting in the stands.

This was what he wanted to be good at.

He wanted to be able to help his family.

He knew he'd make it out there.

He only needed the chance.

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

 **AN2: I'm actually really glad I didn't start writing this when I was in high school. It would have been _so bad._**


	2. SixteenOne

He stared at the ceiling through the darkness of his room as he lay sprawled on the bed. There'd been some kind of mix up at the track and he'd been notified that he may not have made the field.

If he didn't make the field, he was out five bucks.

If he was out five bucks, he'd get an _I told you so_ from Henry.

If he was out five bucks and out of the field, they were broke.

Flat as a pancake broke.

They'd gotten another bill that afternoon.

He closed his eyes, willing the pounding thuds in his chest to slow down. Jesse didn't care if he was moved to another race, he just needed to know when to be there. He didn't care if he only got the five dollars back, he just didn't want to lose money.

Friday night was a hell of a time for them to spring this on him.

Jesse had nearly drifted off to sleep when his eyes shot open again, hearing Ruth cough in the adjoining room. He'd told her not to overdo it, but she'd said she was almost done with the work she'd started in the garden the day before so he'd relented. He'd only waited so long before chasing her back in to the house, though, telling her to get out of the sun and finishing the work himself.

He cringed, hating the sound of deep chested coughing and shifted restlessly. Every time the silence would lengthen and the house finally settle, he'd hear her movements through the wall and the pattern would start all over again.

Jesse finally sat up, running a hand through his hair as he stood and left his own room. Crossing the hall, he grabbed the cup on the bathroom sink and filled it with water before knocking on her door with his knuckles. He pushed the door open when she'd muttered her permission for him to enter.

"Hey..."

"Hi." She managed before continuing with her fit.

Jesse sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup out, biting the inside of his cheek when she took it from him. Ruth's bedside lamp was on, casting soft light through the room.

Wordlessly, Jesse turned so he was sitting facing the end of the bed and waited until he felt Ruth's back against his own. They'd done this countless times as kids the first time she'd fallen ill. They would sit back to back, measuring their breathing until Ruth was no longer wheezing or forcefully bringing up a lung.

Inhale five, hold, exhale seven.

Sometimes it worked immediately, other times they'd sit there for over an hour.

Luckily this time it was fifteen minutes.

"What would I do without you." She muttered, turning around slowly.

"I dunno. Have a full cake to give Henry on his birthday."

He gestured to the empty water glass and she shook her head.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

"You want the fan brought up?"

She only shook her head again. "Could you open the window, though?"

He did so, propping it open with one hand while he searched for the piece of wood that held it open.

"What time is the race tomorrow?"

"I dunno. They have to let me know. Was supposed to be the night race, but might be moved to afternoon."

At least the purse was the same.

"I wanted to go."

"I don't think so." He looked at her seriously.

"Since when does the youngest sibling get to make all the decisions?"

"I'm only younger by _ten minutes_." He huffed. "Besides, younger brothers make these decisions when their older sisters don't know when to slow down."

"Slow down." She muttered with a grin. "Coming from a kid who thinks he's some famous race car driver-"

"Ruth."

"I know. I'm sorry." She reached out and hugged him around the shoulders, kissing his cheek. "Thanks, Hollywood."

"Any time, Little Dipper."

She patted his cheek affectionately. "Get some sleep. Can't have your big debut on to the racing scene looking like something from a horror movie."

"I appreciate the concern."

"Just looking out for your image."

"Oh." He laughed. "At least someone is."

* * *

He was offended.

He really probably shouldn't have been, but staring up at the chalk boards over the betting counters made him feel foolish.

 _Hudson #38 Odds-16/1_

The field was only sixteen cars!

He'd been able to scrounge up some pocket change and waited in line for a phone to open up. The operator nearly asked him what was wrong when he gave the information to be connected to the garage.

"Smokey's-"

"Henry you better get down here and make a bet."

There was a long pause. "What are you talking about."

"Sixteen to one! They have me as sixteen to one, everyone else is _maybe_ four to one odds-"

"Jesse, you're untried. No one has any idea who you are, and you're driving some ancient Ford-"

" _Six-teen to-_ "

"I heard you the first time."

"Just come put a few dollars down. It might pay well."

"Little over confident, aren't we?"

Jesse hung up the phone, he had to get his number.

Smokey did show up to the track, putting money down just before betting closed.

Jesse ignored the looks from other drivers as he walked back to the Ford. There were muttered comments and whispers but no one addressed him personally.

 _Just wait._ He thought.

"Here."

He spun around to see a young man around his age holding out a helmet. "No jacket, no helmet- you must be broke."

Jesse took the offered helmet and looked it over. "A little."

"River Scott." He held out his hand.

"Jesse Hudson."

"Like Hudson Motors?"

Jesse laughed lowly, adjusting the helmet straps. "I could only wish."

"Well." He eyed Jesse and the car he had up and down briefly. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

 _It's a beautiful day out here at Thomasville, folks. Perfect day for a race. The track is dry despite the brief bit of rain this morning. All our usual drivers are ready and eager for what's to come. For those of you making bets off track, you might've noticed a new number on the boards. Thirty-eight is brand new on the scene, looking mighty green but if you like the long shots, then sixteen to one is your call. Put a dollar down ladies and gents, this dark horse might surprise you._

He had no idea what to do. Jesse waited until he'd gotten into the car to shake out his hands.

If there was one thing he'd perfected in his nineteen years, it was in faking his way through something until he knew what he was doing. Never let them see you sweat.

He wasn't even sure he knew what all the different flag colors meant.

Before he really knew what was happening, there was a gunshot and a cloud of smoke. He'd barely kept up with the field.

Gritting his teeth, Jesse gripped the wheel with white knuckles for nearly half the race, at least half an hour passed before he wasn't flinching at the cars that were inches from either side of him. He grinned finally and laughed aloud when he finally started _passing._

The Ford didn't exactly handle as smoothly as he wished, not that he exactly had the experience or expertise to be making such observations, but when he suddenly found himself in the top five of the field he thought he might actually have the room to make some demands.

 _We're down to the final stretch ladies and gentleman, three laps to go and currently a tie for the lead. Twenty-seven and ninety-two are neck and neck, followed closely behind by seventy-one. Surprisingly enough, thirty-eight has held its ground the entire race and may actually see a top five!_

Jesse suddenly had blinders on, the only things that mattered were the three cars in front of him. The last three laps disappeared in a blur. It happened so quickly he didn't even realize he'd done it.

 _They're coming around the final turn, it's twenty-seven, ninety-two, twenty-seven- Wait! Thirty-eight has come around the outside, this could be a major-! He's done it! I can't believe this folks and I'm watching it with my own eyes! Three car lengths behind and he takes first! Where has this kid been hiding! I hope you put money on the long shot!_

Smokey hadn't gotten great seats, but he could hear just fine. He nearly dropped the ticket voucher in his hand before jumping up and grabbing a hold of the chain link fence.

"That little punk actually did it..."

Jesse slowed the car, the other racers flying around him on their way back to the grandstand entrance of the track. He'd barely come to a full stop before he was up and out of the car, seeing his older brother through the group of people.

His face hurt from smiling so widely.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Smokey asked.

"I dunno-" He laughed, ignoring the small time press as he undid the straps of the borrowed helmet.

* * *

Check in hand, Jesse couldn't quite place the driver who'd given him the helmet. He'd wandered through the cars, they were unrecognizable by now too.

"Nice race."

He sought out the owner of the voice, suddenly recognizing him from earlier and held the helmet out. "Thanks."

Scott took the offered item and tossed it through the driver's side window on to the seat of his car. "Should have put money on you."

"I hear it paid well."

The veteran driver smirked and gestured over Jesse's shoulder. "Imagine taking one of those out."

Jesse turned around to see three of the brand new Hudsons lined up for test runs. They wasted no time at Thomasville, the race was barely over and they were moving on to something else.

Jesse blinked a few times before offering a vague _see ya around_ as he walked back to the first turn to get a better look.

Lined up in a neat row were the brand new Hudson Hornets, red, white and blue. He walked around and in between them, whistling lowly in appreciation.

"Nice cars, huh?"

Jesse glanced up to see a portly man watching him.

"I'd say..."

"That was some nice driving out there, son."

"Thank you, sir." He said, somewhat distracted as he knelt and studied the grills of the three cars

"Ever think of a career?"

"I have."

"Well." The man held out a card. "I don't have time today, but I'd like to hear from you sometime."

Jesse glanced over the card as the man walked away and his head shot up in surprise to watch him leave, wide eyed.

 _Edward Piston? That was Edward Piston?_

He needed to get home, he needed to cash that check, but before he went to find Smokey, he looked over the three cars again. Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the hood of the navy blue Hornet.

If only.


	3. One Way Ticket

Ruth looked over her own reflection in the bathroom mirror silently. The dim lighting darkened the tired eyes that stared back at her. Sighing, she pulled her hair back experimentally, tilting her head before letting it fall past her shoulders again.

She may have only been nineteen, but mentally she felt ancient.

Less than three years ago, she'd had to withdraw from public school. The state providing a tutor for her to finish her schooling while she recuperated from her illness. At one time she'd expected to be valedictorian, attending football games in the fall and part of the drama club productions in the spring. The last thing she'd expected was to become a near shut in. She'd lost a lot of friends. Not out of malicious intent, but other girls her age had lost touch, either because they'd moved on with their lives or just didn't know what to say.

Jesse and Henry were the only constants in her life.

Jesse would be gone for nearly a week, they'd never been apart that long.

Her stomach twisted in a knot and she shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other, going back to her inspection. She wasn't _plain_ but she didn't see herself as _exceptional_ either. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had the chance to use makeup, there hadn't been a reason to in so long. Not to mention it was expensive. She leaned forward against the vanity and studied her own features more closely. While she and Jesse weren't identical, they were still exceptionally closer in appearance than either of them were with Henry. She sometimes felt like she was just a smaller, daintier, version of her twin.

They both shared the same dark hair and bright blue eyes, but dusting along her jaw was a series of freckles that had earned her nickname. They'd only been about five when Jesse had stopped in the middle of whatever game they'd been playing and had pointed it out to her.

"You have the Big Dipper on your face."

It wasn't _exactly_ the shape of the constellation, it took some imagination, but it had stuck. When they'd shown it to Henry, he'd pointed out that she was too little to be the Big Dipper, she'd have to be the little one.

Jesse was affectionately known as _Hollywood_ for obvious reasons.

She was worried about him. Michigan was a long way from Georgia.

Ruth was happy to see him this excited over something, though, despite knowing that most of it was to counterbalance his nervousness. He had to have checked his luggage at least a dozen times, and had asked her another half dozen if what he'd packed would look suitable when meeting the owners of a car corporation. She'd told him that they shouldn't be looking at how much his jacket cost, they should be looking at the talent he had and could use with one of their cars.

She was startled out of her own thoughts when he appeared in the doorway at her side. "Did you want to come or were you staying here?"

"Oh. I wanted to come-" She wanted to see him off at the station. Tearing her attention away from the mirror she finally looked at him. "Don't you look fetching."

He grinned, tipping the brim of the gray fedora up. You weren't caught _dead_ traveling on a train or PanAm without being dressed to the nines. It was unheard of.

"You're gunna miss this train if we stick around here any longer." Smokey's voice came from the bottom of the stairs.

"Then I guess you'll just have to drive me to Michigan."

Ruth grinned as she went for her shoes, listening to the two as Jesse disappeared down the stairs.

"Fat chance. Get in the car." Smokey turned toward the steps once more as Jesse grabbed his things. "Ruth Anne you're as bad as he is. _Let's Go_."

He may have only been five years older than they were, but he'd been forced in to more of a fathering role once they'd lost both parents. He'd looked out for them from the time he was thirteen and when their mother died he had become the head of the family overnight.

"Are you gunna call every day?" Ruth asked once they were piled in to the Ford that Jesse had won the race with.

"As long as I have money for it, yeah."

"Don't talk to strangers."

He huffed. "Yeah."

"Look both ways before crossing the street-"

"Ruth, really."

"Brush your teeth-"

" _Dipper!_ "

"How old are you both." Smokey asked in a mocking fashion when they finally quieted, but that only got the twins going again.

"Two-"

"I was gunna say four."

"You're a tall four year old." Ruth said seriously.

"I know, right?"

"That must've been a painful two years for momma-"

A bark of laughter escaped Jesse at that.

"No, I should be the four year old. You're younger."

"Are we really going to argue over fake ages."

"I'm gunna end this fake argument over fake ages." Smokey finally cut in, unable to see either of them in the darkened vehicle.

The car fell abruptly silent at that, but he could hear them biting back laughter and attempting to remain quiet in the back seat.

"Get it out of your system now..." He sighed, and wasn't surprised when both of them started laughing.

They sobered once they'd reached the station and stood on the platform. The large clock over the ticket booth read 9:55, they'd start boarding in about five minutes.

Ruth was glad she'd grabbed her coat, even for late summer the evening and lengthened in to a chilly night and she stood close to Smokey in an attempt to use him as a windbreak against the faint breeze. She was thankful he'd be staying at the house for the week, she wasn't real interested in the idea of spending a week alone.

Jesse, while legally an adult, had maybe left Thomasville twice before, but never on his own and had never traveled very far. It was going to be a week of adjustments and a little bit of growing up.

"Come back with one of those cars." Ruth smiled, holding back a shiver. "Red, preferably."

Jesse wrinkled his nose, glancing at the ticket in his hand. "Red?"

"How about just a car." Smokey offered.

"Well that is the plan."

Jesse glanced at his ticket once more and then up toward the clock before taking a deep breath.

Ruth reached out and hugged him quickly. "Call as soon as you can."

"Of course."

Smokey picked up the luggage and herded his younger brother toward the train. None of them really wanted to be separated, the three had never gone longer than a day without the other's company, but if Jesse expected this insane idea to work, he had to _go_.

"We'll be fine. Go impress the big shots."

They finally parted ways and Jesse was lucky enough to snag a window seat. He watched with a strange cross between melancholy and excitement as the train pulled away and the figures of his siblings grew smaller until disappearing completely.

He hunkered down in his seat, leaning against the cold glass as he stared out past his own reflection until the lights disappeared and darkness overtook the landscape. He pulled the brim of the hat over his eyes and let the rhythmic sounds and rocking of the train car lull him to sleep.

It was a long ride to Michigan.


	4. Michigan

Michigan was nothing like Georgia.

Jesse had been lucky enough in that he hadn't had to make any connecting trains or buses but it had been a _long_ time to be stuck in one train car.

It was bustling, and he only allowed himself a brief moment to take in the towering buildings and cityscape before weaving in and out of people through the station on their way to their own destinations. He might have been a kid from the middle of nowhere but he didn't need to make himself in to some kind of spectacle. No one would take him seriously if he looked like some starstruck hick from the sticks.

Thankfully cab drivers knew every street corner, hotel and dive there was. All he had to do was tell them where he needed to go.

Jesse thanked the driver, paid his fare and glanced up once at the building after he'd closed the door. Thomasville had nothing this extravagant, and this had been the cheapest he could find in town. He'd have to at least see what the other places were like before going home. It was probably good he couldn't afford a camera, then he would look like a hick from the sticks.

He checked in and was handed the key to his room, had raised a brow but declined any help from the bellhop and made it to his room on the third floor. He'd taken the stairs. He'd never used an elevator before and wasn't sure he trusted that open cage design.

Locking the door behind him, Jesse threw his hat and luggage on a chair before losing the jacket and shoes. He pinched the knots out of the back of his neck before lying on the bed and flipping through the directory he'd grabbed from the nightstand.

Well, calls home would have to be limited. Long distance was murder.

He had to make sure to budget gas money for the drive home too.

That's if Hudson even gave him a car.

That would be a rough call back home. Not to mention a huge waste of time and money on his part.

He had a decent shot though, right? Two weeks ago everyone had been impressed and interested in who he was. Edward Piston had given him his card. Those who had bet on him were thrilled.

What if that was just the pomp and circumstance of racing? What if it was all false smiles and great job but no genuine interest?

What if it was a one time thing?

He tossed the directory aside and grabbed the phone, asking the operator to connect him with the main offices of Hudson Motor Car Company.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Hanging up, he tried again but this time asked for a specific party line down in Thomasville, Georgia.

Of course it was busy. Mrs. Rhodes down the road was probably discussing the latest gossip of town.

He groaned and set the phone aside, lying back again.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep for three hours.

* * *

He'd tried to make a call to Hudson again, figuring that it wasn't even three in the afternoon yet, someone would still be there.

Still nothing.

He tried home again.

Still busy.

This was going to be a very boring trip. It took him a few minutes to get the hang of the television, he'd seen them before, sure, but had never had to get it to function.

Talk about feeling small.

They had everything else in his room, why couldn't they have at least left a radio.

He ended up ignoring the television anyway, the picture was small and the sound distorted. Instead, he stared at the ceiling from where he lay and rehearsed what he would say to the owners at Hudson.

 _Yes, that is actually my last name._

 _You want to sell cars, you need an audience. I'll get you that audience._

 _You won't be able to produce Hornets fast enough._

He decided he wasn't going to waste any more money with attempted phone calls, and instead spent the rest of the evening ordering the cheapest food he could find and figuring out how he was going to make this work.

* * *

The next morning he tried again and was at least able to contact home. They'd kept the conversation brief once he'd explained the surcharges but he shared that he had wanted his siblings to know he was safe and the train hadn't suffered some catastrophic derailment.

He'd heard Ruth shout something from the background when Henry had relayed the message.

"What'd she say?"

"She doesn't think you're very funny."

He'd rolled his eyes before changing the subject, saying they'd have to make a trip up north when he was racing Piston.

They said their goodbyes and Jesse was left staring at the same four walls again. He grumbled lowly to himself as he went for his luggage. He wasn't going to spend this trip waiting around for some big shots to finally give him the time of day.

* * *

Standing in front of the offices of Hudson Motors he took a deep breath, shook the nervousness from his hands, and pushed the doors open.

The lobby was surprisingly smaller than he had expected, if he didn't know where he was then he'd have had no idea this was the main building for the company. Then again, it wasn't exactly Ford he was approaching either.

They'd give Ford a run for their money though, if they'd get in to Piston.

He removed his hat when he reached the front desk and offered a charming smile to the young secretary who blushed before glancing at the roster of meeting times for the day.

"Do you have an appointment, Mr.-?"

"Hudson, and no, I don't, I was hoping-"

He could tell she thought he was part of the family when she sat up straighter and went to speak. He stopped her before she had a chance.

"No, it's not what you think. There's no relation."

"Oh-"

"I'd just like to meet with someone who'd-"

"You'll need a scheduled appointment."

His brow furrowed at being interrupted and he started over. "I'd just like to speak to someone from production, or even marketing."

When she repeated herself about needing an appointment he felt his resolve waver ever so slightly. He frowned and put his hands in his pockets before feeling a slip of paper and looking down at it in curiosity. Somehow Edward Piston's business card had found it's way in to his formal jacket pocket.

He set it on the counter with a little more force than necessary, sliding it toward her.

"I would like to speak to someone from this company."

She took the business card and glanced up at him uncertainly. "Take a seat, sir."

"Much obliged." He grinned and grabbed a seat near the window, spinning the hat over his hand as he waited.

Businessmen walked in and out and he caught himself checking his watch more frequently than usual. He had the distinct feeling they were hoping he'd get tired of waiting.

Finally he noticed an older gentleman speaking with the secretary, he glanced up in his direction when she'd passed him the card. Jesse willed his heart to slow down as the man approached him from across the lobby.

"My apologies, we don't normally have walk ins, Mr.-"

"Hudson." Jesse stood and shook his hand. He grinned faintly at the raised brow and once again explained there was no relation.

"Miss Marks tells me you wished to see someone?" The man asked while looking over the card Jesse had handed the girl earlier.

"From production, or marketing, yes sir. Preferably the owner, but I'm sure he's a busy man."

"He is." The man answered. "I think we can gather a few people though."

Jesse followed and took the man's instruction when he was lead in to what appeared to be a board room and was asked to sit on one side of the table. He bounced his knee nervously when the man disappeared, but stopped abruptly when he returned with two more men who flanked him on the opposite side of the table.

"This is John Hudson, he's in charge of production." He certainly looked it, while dressed in a suit, Jesse could tell he had no problem tearing an engine apart and reassembling it.

"And this is Adam Brown. He takes care of the marketing campaigns. Our numbers cruncher if you will." Jesse could see that too, the guy looked like he'd never suffered a callous or blister in his life.

They all shook hands and he introduced himself, explaining the name before anyone had the chance to ask. He jumped into his pitch without delay, knowing they weren't going to hold his hand in this.

"I happened to see your new Hornets a few weeks ago-"

Adam had already held his hand up to stop him. "The Hornets aren't off the line yet."

Jesse glanced toward the other men. "I saw three Hornets in Thomasville, Georgia."

"They were test running down south." John leaned out across the table to look at Adam. Jesse could already sense a rivalry there.

"Right." Jesse continued after a pause. "I saw one of their runs and was extremely impressed. I'd like to propose the idea of racing them in Piston Cup."

"That rabble?" Adam sneered. "Piston Cup is going nowhere."

Jesse could tell he had John's attention, though, and the older gentleman across from him.

"I raced at Thomasville two weeks ago, in a Ford-"

"Don't curse around here, son." The man threw in jokingly.

He grinned, feeling like he was gaining some ground. "Anyway, I raced in an old beaten up car but after seeing those Hudsons on the track, I'd like to drive a Hudson Hornet."

Jesse went into the specifics of why a Hornet would dominate the track. "The straight six isn't as high powered as the V-8 but those Hornets are lighter, they don't need it. Then with the dual carburetors-"

"How do you know about the dual carburators?"

Jesse could tell Mr. Brown was going to be the main problem. "I got a look at them after one of their runs."

"What did you think?" The man across from him asked.

"They're fantastic." Jesse shook his head, hoping they understood he was being genuine and not trying to impress.

"So." The man leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "What is it you're really here to ask, young man."

"I want to drive a Hornet. It's an unheard of model, Ford is taking the market with their post world war production line. Piston Cup, contrary to what some believe-" He glanced toward their marketing director briefly before continuing. "-is taking the south by storm. If you have a Hornet out there winning races you won't have enough product to meet demand."

"Plus-" He added. "I'll need it to get home."

The man laughed suddenly at that.

"And you're going to win those races?"

"Yes, sir."

The man looked toward John before turning back to Jesse. "You, nineteen year old, green as the day is long, Jesse Hudson, are going to win Piston Cup races in one of our cars."

"Yes."

"You've only won one race."

Jesse felt his optimism slipping. "So far."

The man nodded slowly, turning in the chair before going to stand. Jesse did so as well, out of polite habit.

"Mr. Brown, kindly get me the specs and numbers on the cost of a Hornet." He gestured for the others to follow. "You two come with me."

He lead them out of the room and then out of the building and around to a large lot where a few dozen Hornets were lined up along the back of the building. Jesse felt a wave of uncertainty as the man excused themselves and left him standing beside a green Hudson.

They'd at least listened to him. He'd made it this far, and if they said no, he'd be back tomorrow.

The two approached him again and Jesse forced himself to breath.

"To make a long story short, you're gunna get a car."

Jesse grinned but held back his excitement with professionalism as best he could.

"There are conditions, though." The man continued.

"Alright."

"Your first official races, a percentage will be taken off the winnings to pay for the car."

That was fair.

"If you're as good as you say you are, we expect to see sales."

"Yes, sir."

The man slapped him on the shoulder. "John's gunna get you a car, we'll draft a contract tomorrow."

He'd barely gotten a chance to thank the man before he was walking back to the building. Hearing an engine turn over and level out into a low rumble, Jesse turned to see a Hornet backing out of it's parking space and coast down the lot toward him.

He wasn't that impressed with the color. Cream wasn't exactly aggressive.

It was a Hornet, though, and that's all that mattered.

John got out of the car and walked around the hood to meet him.

"He was impressed by your tenacity, kid."

Jesse grinned faintly, and was surprised when the other continued.

"Edward Piston told us we might hear from you, too. Dad had been hoping to meet you."

John Hudson, the elder man was John Hudson Sr.

The owner of Hudson Motor Car Company. Why hadn't he put two and two together...

Before Jesse could process the events of the last hour, John held out a set of keys. "He told you about contracts waiting till tomorrow?"

"Yes." He took the keys, hiding his confusion when John went back to the driver's side door.

The man must have noticed, and clarified. "This is for my wife." He smirked. "Go pick out a car."

As the cream colored Hudson left the lot, Jesse turned down the row of fresh-off-the-line vehicles and scrutinized each one.

He could do red like Ruth had asked, but as much as he loved his sister, this was _his_ car. If he was going to be spending so much time on it and in it, he better like it.

The black was sharp, he liked the sleek lines and the way the chrome contrasted against it, but it also made it look like a police car.

He finally came to a stop at the end of the row and stared at the last Hornet. He was reminded of Thomasville when those cars had come out on the track and of his brief conversation with Edward Piston, before he'd even realized who the man was.

The navy blue still allowed the chrome to contrast handsomely, it was sleek, classy, and intimidating.

"How would you like to become famous?" He murmured to the Hornet.

* * *

 **AN: I'm not old enough to have ever used a party line, but I've heard stories of having to pick up the phone and telling your neighbor to get off the line if you had an important call to make. Like back in the day when I was told to get off the Internet when my parents needed the phone.**


	5. Get the Key and Let's Go!

It was the best and worst two days of his life. If only because of how exhausted he was.

He'd tried to get a decent night's sleep the day he'd gotten the Hornet. Jesse had spent a little more money for a longer phone call home that evening, knowing he couldn't keep it to himself that long.

"Hey, is Ruth around?"

"Let me get her." Smokey replied.

Jesse waited impatiently, staring at the wall across from him before looking down at the vehicle manual he'd brought back to the room with him.

He could hear his siblings speaking to each other.

"-is it?"

"Hollywood."

Ruth's voice was louder then. "Hey, what's-"

"I have bad news." He interrupted.

She stopped short and he could picture her blinking rapidly a few times, stuck standing close to the wall mount in the kitchen.

"Oh, Jesse, I'm-"

"I didn't get it."

He could also picture her looking toward Smokey with a forlorn expression, at a loss for words.

A smile began to tear through his tone. "I didn't get the red one."

"Wh-"

"I took a blue one."

She must have dropped the phone, all he could hear was her shout of surprise and clattering and bumping about as she'd struggled to get a hold of the phone again.

"Jesse Hudson why do you do things like that to me-!"

He'd started laughing, wishing he were there in person as opposed to sharing the news over the phone.

"They actually gave you a car."

"Yeah, they actually did"

"You obviously said something right somewhere."

"I'll be home sooner." He'd explained that once contracts were signed, he planned on getting home as soon as possible.

The city wasn't nearly as interesting when you were completely alone.

Jesse had spoken to both of them, retelling the story twice and then what the city was like.

"I'm ready to come home, though."

He'd wanted to get to work, and left directly from the Hudson offices with a newly signed contract in hand. It would have been a sixteen hour drive, he'd made it in eighteen. Only because he'd stopped every few hours for a cat nap on the side of the road.

Ruth had wanted him to slow down once he'd gotten home, and he had for a day, allowing the southern heat to seep back into his joints after the cooler than usual September weekend up north. He'd never really understood why anyone would tolerate such cold weather on a regular basis, but he didn't need to waste time worrying about it either.

After a day of celebrating and one of the largest meals they'd seen in a long time, the three siblings sat on the front porch and stared at the Hornet parked at the bottom of the steps.

"When are you getting started?" Ruth asked.

"As soon as possible."

* * *

Jesse swayed and grabbed a hold of the fence, his fingers grasping around the cold metal roughly to keep himself upright. He had the feeling he could have a rough meeting with the ground at any moment.

"Will you stand still? I've almost got it."

"Hurry up."

"Stop moving!"

"I'm not moving! Get the key and let's go!" Smokey hissed through the dark.

He loved his kid brother, but he was not going to jail for this.

Jesse reached through the chain link fence, grimacing as his shoulder started turning red as he pushed against the chain links.

"My arm's not thin enough."

"For the love of-"

"Stop moving!"

"Speaking of thin." Smokey huffed. "For as scrawny as you are, you're really heavy."

"Blame your sister." Ruth's hobby was cooking, he might as well take advantage of it.

" _My_ sister." Smokey rolled his eyes. Jesse really was getting heavy sitting on his shoulders, though.

"She's very intimidating."

"No, you're just a pushover."

Seeing as Jesse was not yet officially a driver of Piston Cup, they did not have permission to use the track at their leisure. Jesse had pointed out that the names behind Piston weren't around on a regular basis, though, and he'd seen where the keys to the main gates were kept. The only problem there was that while he might have had access to the hallway leading to the maintenance office, there was still a fence in front of the wall of keys.

And of course the keys to the track gate were higher than either brother could reach.

Smokey grunted and felt the wind knocked out of him when Jesse accidentally kicked him in the stomach.

"I am going to walk away and let you hit the ground. How hard is it to-"

Jesse leaned forward again and used the momentum of his body weight to bend the fence inward.

"Almost-"

Both of them looked in the direction of the barn doors at the end of the hall at the same time, a red light flashing through the cracked opening.

"I _told_ you!" Smokey hissed.

"Shhhh-!"

Both of them lost their balance and Smokey winced in sympathy when Jesse nearly hit the ground. Luckily he'd been able to slow his fall when he'd grabbed the fencing.

They didn't wait for the doors to be pushed open, and took off at a run even while hearing the two officers discussing whose car that could be parked beside the grandstand. Smokey looked over his shoulder as he shoved Jesse through the opening of some broken boards that lead out under the bleachers before crawling out carefully himself.

"I will smother you if you don't stop laughing!" He hissed, grabbing the back of Jesse's shirt and pulling him back under the shadow of the building.

Jesse stood with his hands on his knees, laughing to the point of crying as he hit his brother's arm.

"This is not funny!"

Jesse looked over his shoulder, just able to see the flashlights the officers carried through the slats in the boards and shoved Smokey's arm.

"That way, that way!" He whispered. They could sneak back to the Hornet and never cross paths with the policemen.

"Haven't even had that car a week and it's gunna get impounded-" Smokey lamented lowly as they snuck their way around the building.

They very carefully opened the heavy doors and slid into the front seats, pulling them closed again as quietly as possible. Smokey glared at his brother, there was no way he'd get this car started without them noticing. It was too loud.

"You might wanna hold on-"

"Let's just go."

Smokey knew the sound of the Hornet's engine would get the attention of the officers and could see their silhouettes coming around the far end of the grandstands.

"Jesse-"

'I know! Hold on-"

The Hornet did a quick three point turn before flying on to the road behind the track. Smokey turned to look out the rear window.

"I thought you said these cars were fast!"

"It is!" Jesse defended. "Can you give me a chance to get out of these trees?"

Not to mention how much the road twisted and curved.

Smokey didn't breath until the red lights disappeared around a turn.

"Go through Adams' it's quicker that way."

"I am _not_ driving this car through a _peach orchard_."

"You wanna get caught?"

"We're not gunna get caught." He snapped, shifting gears and flying around a wide turn.

Squealing tires and flying gravel startled Ruth as she'd been getting ready for bed. Throwing on her house coat she ran down the stairs and peeked through the curtains of the kitchen window to see Jesse and Henry parking the new car in the garage at the top of the sloped ridge behind the house. She listened to their muffled voices as they walked through the dark, up the steps of the back porch and into the kitchen.

"-told you it'd be fine."

"You told me we wouldn't get caught, that's different from it being fine."

"Well we didn't get caught either."

Ruth eyed them both as they made it in to the house, both going straight for the kitchen sink to get cleaned up. Both were covered in dirt, with brambles stuck to the backs of their shirts and lower legs of their jeans.

"What happened?"

"Your double over here almost got us arrested for trespassing."

"What?" She looked toward Jesse with a frown.

"I'm _borrowing_ a key until I'm actually given one."

"Except we didn't get the key." Smokey huffed.

The rattling of a key ring drew their attention toward Jesse, who swung the ring on one finger with a wide grin.

"I can't believe-"

They all stopped abruptly when there was a knock at the door, three heads all swiveling toward the sound in unison.

Smokey pointed a finger between the twins before going to answer the door.

"Do not leave this room until I say so."

They listened in, making eye contact as parts of the conversation drifted in.

"What're-"

"I can't hear what they're saying."

Their brother's voice suddenly seemed a little louder, yelling a goodnight from the top of the steps on the porch before calmly closing the front door. When the flashing lights had receded he stalked through the house.

"You're lucky we had that car in the garage."

Jesse raised both hands noncomittally and went back to swinging the keys. "They had no idea what it was, no one's gunna recognize it in the dark."

"They're looking for some joy riders, _apparently_ some kids broke in to the track and Adams' orchard has some damage to some of the trees."

"I didn't _go_ through Adams'!"

"Someone did."

Jesse only grinned, but it paled at the look he got from Ruth.

"But Jesse Hudson wouldn't break in to a _track-_ " Smokey started facetiously.

"It wasn't breaking and entering, I have permission for those areas."

"You don't own it, you know."

Jesse tossed the key ring on to the table. "We'll see."

Smokey rolled his eyes and looked toward his sister with a smirk. "We've created a monster."

Jesse's voice drifted into the kitchen as he'd jogged up the steps. "Hey!"


	6. Practice Makes Perfect

**AN: FanFiction did something screwy the first time I posted this. I think I got it figured out. Hope it reads ok.**

* * *

"Pick a number between one and ten."

"Uh-...five." Jesse glanced at his sister as they sat at the table on the back porch shelling snap peas.

"Ok." She nodded. "Now pick _another_ number between one and ten- and _stop_ eating the snap peas! I'll have nothing to can."

"They're better fresh anyway..." He grabbed another before leaning back out of her reach as she went to smack him. "One."

"Five and one?"

"Yeah." He watched idly as she scooped the vegetables away from him and continued working on her own. "I thought you wanted my help."

"I did, until you decided to eat everything."

"I am a growing child, Ruth Anne, what do you expect."

"Lying is a sin, Jesse Aaron and you know it. You haven't grown an inch since we were seventeen."

 _"_ _Oh,_ the middle names come out."

"You started it- Jesse!" She shouted as he stood quickly and took a handful of what they'd harvested from the garden.

He shoved another handful in to the pocket he made with the upturned hem of his shirt, laughing even as she accidentally hit him on top of the head.

"Ow-! Ruth, violence is a sin!"

"So is stealing!"

"Half of that garden is mine you know." He countered, still laughing as he stood up straight again, trying to keep from dropping anymore snap peas as they fell this way and that.

"You've eaten everything from your half!" At least she was laughing as well.

He was just barely able to edge around his sister as he made a break for the steps, colliding heavily with Smokey halfway down and causing the stolen items to fall all over the place.

"Scared the hell out of me-"

"Glad to see my siblings are so productive with their time..." Smokey raised a brow, still holding him by the shoulders. He looked up toward Ruth. "He tormenting you?"

"She hit me on the head." Jesse muttered sarcastically.

"Did you deserve it?"

"I have the right not to self incriminate."

"I just want my vegetables back." Ruth commented from the porch.

"Get to it, Hollywood." Smokey smirked and slapped him on the shoulder before stepping around him.

He huffed but started collecting the snap peas off the steps, looking up toward his brother. "You're late."

"I had work to do."

"How would you like a different line of work? Fewer hours, get the winter off."

"I am not getting in to this racing you're obsessed with."

"It'll pay well."

"And work for you? I don't think so."

"You'd work for Piston." Jesse replied from the steps, glancing up at him. "I think. I'm not sure exactly how it works."

Smokey regarded him in silence, watching from where he leaned against the porch rail. Jesse had a lot of work to do if he planned to be ready for the next spring. The kid had talent, he didn't doubt that, but there was a lot more to racing than having a fast car.

"You wouldn't work for me, though, kind of the other way 'round."

That had his attention. "Oh?"

Jesse stood and stretched his back as he came back up to the porch and returned the snap peas to the table. "Yeah, I own and drive the car but you'd be calling most of the shots."

Ruth looked between the two, she could usually tell when Jesse was just trying to get his way, and this wasn't one of them. He genuinely wanted Henry's help and guidance. Their older brother didn't have the best garage in a twenty mile radius for nothing.

"Let me think about it."

Jesse grinned, popping a snap pea in to his mouth.

* * *

They spent hours at a time going over the most mundane of rules. Jesse had gotten tired of reciting what flag colors meant, what was permitted on the track and what wasn't, and what times you were expected to be present for a given race if you wanted to be signed in on time.

Ruth read from the small rule book Jesse had gotten from the track, legally, he'd requested this particular item at least. The situation with the key had nearly earned him an early grave from Henry, the very next morning, after their little escapade, a Piston administrator had shown up at the door with a set of keys to all non restricted areas of the track.

"Any driver that has not signed in at least thirty minutes before the start time of a Piston Certified Race will be disqualified for that day."

"That's a stupid rule."

"Any driver believed to be under the influence of alcoholic substances will be disqualified for that day."

Jesse shrugged, that only made sense.

"Any driver caught using modified fuel ( _e.g._ _moonshine_ ) will be disqualified for that day, as well as the next three consecutive races. For the advantage of the use of the fuel as well as the assumption that the driver is under influence."

Ruth glanced up toward her twin as he'd recited part of the last stated regulation. "Did you memorize all this?"

"Just about."

"Then why am I reading it out loud?"

"Think of it as studying."

" _I_ am not the one who has to study this."

"I didn't force you to read it." He grinned and took the book when she held it out to him. He knew she wouldn't involve herself if she wasn't _somewhat_ interested.

"When are you and Henry going to the track?"

Jesse glanced at the wall clock and winced, going for his keys. "I'm supposed to meet him in five minutes."

"You better hope he doesn't change his mind and switch drivers after you show up late." She shook her head, hearing his response as he left out the back door.

"He'd regret it."

* * *

The Hornet spun out around the turn and Smokey shook his head as he pushed off the rail of the inner wall and stopped at the driver's side door. Jesse had kept the window down so they could speak easier.

"You gave it too much, too long. You gotta come out of that drift sooner."

"Last time it was too soon-"

"It's always gunna change. Before you didn't take that left hard enough, this time you didn't straighten out fast enough. You have to pay attention to how the back end of the car feels. It'll be different with a dozen cars around you too."

He reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt and let it sift through his fingers while Jesse stared at him in frustration from inside the car. He scuffed the ground with his foot and kicked up a cloud of dust. "This is extremely fine ground on this track, you're gunna slip and slide all over the place. Other tracks might be rougher, you won't work as hard to straighten her out."

"Now." He slapped the side panel of the car once and grinned at the look he was being given. "Turn her around and just go around the track a few times, don't even worry about anything fancy. Just get a sense for where the car feels most comfortable."

He walked around the hood and back to the wall as the Hornet turned back around and started down the straightaway, building speed before starting into the first turn. He spoke lowly to himself as if taking note on what to comment on the next time Jesse stopped.

"This isn't that little Ford, Hollywood, you gotta- there you go." He grinned widely as the Hornet seemed to settle and gain speed, it wasn't blinding speed by any means but he could tell Jesse had gotten more comfortable. Three trips around the track and the Hornet slowed to a stop in front of him.

"How'd that look?"

"Better. Do it again."

They spent days figuring out the mechanics of the car, as well as the track, and would only stop when Smokey would finally say they'd had enough. Both of them would be covered in dirt, sore and exhausted. Smokey had gotten in to the habit of wearing a hat to the track to shield his eyes and protect his face from the sun. Jesse would return home red eyed, shower just long enough to get the worst of the dirt from his hair and promptly pass out for the night.

Ruth wasn't used to being on her own so much. She enjoyed it at times, being able to listen to what she wanted on the radio, or get caught up on things she had wanted to get done. There were other times, though, she would try to occupy herself and only get stuck wondering what her siblings were doing, or if they were taking care of themselves. So the next time they went out to the track, she asked to tag along. Jesse hadn't liked the idea very much, knowing that after an hour he felt like his lungs were filled with dirt. She'd promised to sit high enough in the stands that it wouldn't be a problem. She'd been irritated to find out that they weren't stopping at any point during their time there to eat or even take a break. Ruth had put her foot down, as middle sibling, and had informed them that they'd be stopping when she decided and taking at least half an hour to eat the packed lunch she brought.

She'd only had to stand from her place in the bleachers to see Henry wave a hand and the Hornet come to a stop near the gates that opened to the stands.

She had met them at the wall, in a place where the dust had settled and looked them over as they brushed the dirt from their shoulders. She smirked when Jesse sneezed once.

"I think you should both call it a day. You've got months before next season starts."

"Might just have to take you up on that offer." Smokey commented while rifling through their father's old metal lunch box.

Jesse frowned, taking the sandwich offered to him before running a hand through damp hair. "That last run-"

"Will have to be good enough for today."

"But I almost had-"

"Who'd you say calls the shots?"

Jesse only stared at him for a moment before attempting to rub the dirt from his eyes. "Right."

He'd progressed faster than either of them had anticipated. Smokey figured they could use a break for a while. Ruth was right, they still had months before the season started.

"Someone else might appreciate some track time." He added.

"Has anyone else been out while you two were?" Ruth asked.

"No, but they're going to want to after next season..." Smokey gestured to where Jesse was sitting on the wall in front of the Hornet.

* * *

 **AN: Yay! If you haven't noticed, this is kind of a slow build story. I'm much better with oneshots I think but enjoy writing this. Multi chapter stories usually pose a challenge for me (in case any of you have read my other work _Racing Time,_ that hasn't been updated in years...)**

 **He's got the Hornet and he's on his way! We should finally be getting to the racing years shortly!**


	7. Three Wheel Brakes

Smokey had forced them in to a hiatus for nearly a month and had gone almost as far as taking the keys away from his younger brother. The last thing he wanted to see was Jesse burn himself out and get fed up with the idea of racing before he even started.

"He's going stir crazy, and that's driving me crazy." Ruth commented from where she sat at the table behind bolts and scraps of fabric.

Smokey turned away from the counter, fresh cup of coffee in hand. "He does realize there's six months before-"

"Seven, trust me I've heard it enough times..."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Where is he anyway."

"Down at Rhodes' farm, they need help redoing the roof on the main building."

He only inclined his head in acknowledgment, raising a brow at the same time in silent question.

Ruth threw a swatch of fabric over the blue she'd picked out. "What do you think?"

"If I knew what I was looking at I might be of more assistance."

"Birthday gift." She'd gotten a half decent look at other driver's jackets lately, and if there was one thing her mother had taught her, it was how to construct her own patterns. "Which reminds me, you need to go to the track."

"Why?"

She handed a sheet from the back of the rule book to him and he glanced it over as she replied.

"If I do all this work and he doesn't get the number fifty-one, I'm blaming you. That's why."

He sighed, glanced at the clock and set his coffee aside. "I'll be back in an hour or so..."

He'd been relieved when the form made it in before they closed up the press box, even in the off season there was activity daily. He returned to the homestead to find his sister diligently pinning fabric together.

"Do I get one too?"

"If you want."

"I don't want all that fancy stuff on it."

He'd flat out told Jesse he thought he'd ruined the car when he saw the white lettering. He'd hoped that wasn't going to make the cut.

"It looks ridiculous."

"It does not."

"Tell me this is a test run."

"I wanted to see how it would turn out." He'd explained that it would go back to the navy blue for the time being but that he'd have the stenciling redone before the season started.

Smokey hoped he'd forget, but seriously doubted it, especially now with Ruth constructing his jacket.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had yet to see a race. He hoped Jesse knew what he was in for.

* * *

"What the hell is that?"

River Scott glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Pretty nice lookin' car if you ask me."

He hadn't expected that kid to actually come back with a brand new Hornet in the spring. He had to give him credit he supposed, the kid knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. Hopefully he just wouldn't embarass himself in front of everyone. Especially with that paint job.

"He's asking for a target on his back."

"More than one way to do that." River finally turned toward the other driver. He tolerated Alexander Piston, that didn't mean he cared much for him.

Most driver's remained pretty tight lipped around Edward Piston's kids, his son more so than his daughter, they rarely saw her, but no one wanted their words to find their way back to the sport's biggest sponsor.

"It's just pretentious."

River only glanced at him while working the tightness out of new gloves, because, yeah, it was, but that kid had shown them all up in a beaten down Ford last summer.

* * *

"Hey. Are you listening to me?"

"Huh-what? Yeah-"

He could see the tension in his brother's shoulders as Jesse leaned against the inner rail. Smokey stood on the other side of it behind him and thumped him on the back once.

"You haven't heard a word I've said."

"Yes, I have-"

It had been seven months of making sure the rule book was memorized, by the both of them. Seven months of spending three to four days on the track and three to four evenings learning the ins and outs of the car. Smokey felt like either one of them could take that thing apart and reassemble it at a moment's notice.

"I wish Ruth was here."

Smokey patted his brother's shoulder roughly. "She's got the radio at the house."

"Mmm."

"You need to pay attention to what's going on now." Smokey turned his brother around to face him and tapped a finger against Jesse's temple. "This car's faster than that Ford could ever dream to be. The field is bigger, you have to watch yourself."

He leaned his hands on the railing, eye to eye with his brother but speaking like a coach would to a boxer in the ring. "Find your openings but don't leave yourself open in the process."

Jesse only nodded.

"Don't let me see you playing dirty out there."

"I wouldn't."

"I mean it. Even if someone sideswipes you, I don't want to see you running after them."

Jesse only nodded once more and turned to the Hornet when the drivers were called to their cars. He felt worse than when he'd entered with the Ford, more was riding on this. The payment for the car, his career, his brother's career, his sister's well being.

Sitting in the driver's seat, he fixed the helmet he'd been able to purchase himself and closed his eyes briefly, only opening them just in time for the start gun to go off.

Driving alone and driving in a field of twenty plus were very different things. Jesse found himself frustrated at every turn, there wasn't enough room.

A red Cadillac ahead hit the wall and came back across the track, he hadn't pulled that turn tight enough at all. Jesse was forced to slam his brake and met eyes briefly with the other driver before being able to weave out around him. A thought struck him as the cars were forced off the track so they could remove the mutilated Cadillac.

He'd jumped out of the car and rushed around to the passenger side.

"The hell are you doing! Get back in that car!" Smokey shouted.

"Throw me the jack-"

"What?"

"I don't have time, Henry, throw me the jack!"

He came around the front of the Hornet and caught the heavy piece of equipment just before it would have hit the ground. Sliding it under the car he got behind the passenger tire. Smokey was at his side by then, wanting to know just _what he thought he was doing and why wasn't he in his car?_

"That Cadillac still out there?"

Smokey looked over his shoulder. "Yeah but they've got it hooked up to the truck."

"I need a clamp."

"What are you doing-"

"Henry I need a clamp!"

Smokey jumped the rail and grabbed the tool box, rummaging through it once he'd returned to the Hornet's side.

"What size?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll need you to open it, though."

"Are you bleeding?" He looked at Jesse's hand as he'd looked out from under the Hornet.

"Just nicked it on a bolt. Tight fit by this tire." He took the clamp with a quick thanks and disappeared again.

"Hurry up, Hollywood, they're almost off the track-"

"I almost got it."

"Jesse-!"

"Hold on!"

He slid back out from under the car and shot up. He pointed even as he ran back around to the driver's side. "Get that jack!"

Smokey did so, just in time for Jesse to be able to leave with the rest of the field back on to the track. He glanced down at it once and wondered exactly what had happened. He got his answer a few moments later.

Once the field was back up to speed, Jesse had some ground to regain. When they came around the closest turn, the Hornet spun broadside around the track and straightened out quickly before flying down the straightaway. He'd never seen Jesse get the car to move like that in all their practice runs.

"That little punk..." He glanced down at the jack in his hand again. "He disengaged the brake..."

* * *

He would've come in first, but he wasn't going to play dirty.

Some white Chevy had bumped him and he'd fishtailed, only regaining his line right before the finish line.

Piston Cup payed up to fifth place, so it would have to do.

Jesse cleaned up his face and neck with the wet rag his brother had handed him, staring toward the white #4.

"Who is that?"

"Piston."

Jesse looked to his side to see Scott and another driver coming toward him.

"Piston?" He looked back out. "He always drive like that?"

"Not always. Only when he thinks he's got something to prove."

"Take it as a compliment." The new driver added.

"Guess I'll have to."

"Name's Junior Moon."

"Jesse Hudson."

The trio stood in a half circle and watched the press surrounding the Chevy before deciding it wasn't really worth their time.

"Came to invite you to join us this afternoon."

"Rookies aren't usually included."

"But you don't drive like one so-"

"Ok." Jesse smirked, unsure exactly what he was even being invited to. He looked toward his brother.

"Go ahead, I want to get this cleaned up." Smokey gestured to the Hornet, knowing the engine would need a good once over.

"I'll catch up with you." Jesse nodded to the other two as they turned to leave. He looked back toward his brother once more. "You'll need to be easy on the brake driving home."

"I can't believe you did that, and that quickly."

"It works better than trying to guess every time."

* * *

"You can't keep driving like that."

"Like what?"

"I saw what you did."

"C'mon, Emily, new kids have to be put in their place." Alexander replied.

"That's not what you were doing." She frowned as she leaned back in the chair beside the phone in the foyer of the Piston household.

She hadn't been at the race, but their father had brought the film reel home before leaving for the coastal states again. She'd been on her own for over a week while her mother had left to visit family in Arizona and her father and brother had left for the east coast the same day.

Edward Piston didn't think she needed to concern herself with the sport, but if he left the films lying around...

"One of these days another driver won't be so willing to put up with you..."

"Weren't you supposed to go west with mom?"

"I obviously didn't."

"Obviously, if you're telling me how I ran my own race."

She bit her lip, realizing what she'd just admitted to.

"Well thanks for the congratulations and all, but I gotta go."

"Yeah." She stared at the newspaper as she hung up the phone, not at the image of her brother's Chevy but the smaller image below.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was emblazoned on the side of the car in the middle of the line up.

"Congratulations..."

* * *

 **AN: _Three wheel brakes_ is a modification. The right front brake is disengaged, literally leaving three brakes in use. It pulls the car to the left abruptly and kicks out the back end when the brake is applied.**


	8. Stolen Numbers

**AN: I really enjoy writing this particular fic.**

* * *

Ruth was sitting at the table with Joan, and Jesse waved a hand in acknowledgment as he passed through, intent on getting out of the clothes he'd been stuck in all day after the race.

"Hey Ruth Anne. Joan." He nodded, already half way through the kitchen.

"Hello, Jesse."

Joan Williams and his brother were an item, he thought, he wasn't really sure because Henry wouldn't just commit to a yes or no answer. Jesse figured it was because she intimidated him, blonde hair always styled just so, she was never caught without her makeup or outfit looking like a page from one of those magazines. She was maybe two years older than he and Ruth and Jesse could always tell that Ruth felt like a little kid beside her.

He'd made the comment one afternoon after the couple had left that he thought she was too high maintenance for their brother. Ruth had only continued to flip through the style magazine Joan had left. "That's why he's dating her and you're not."

He was up the stairs and nearly to his room when Ruth caught up to him and stopped him in the hallway. His brows had lowered, asking what was wrong.

"Were you drinking."

"I had _a_ drink. Why?"

"Did you drive home?"

He leaned his shoulder in to the door frame and crossed his arms. "No, _mother_ , I didn't. Henry brought the Hornet back earlier. One of Junior's cousins brought me home."

Besides, the one drink he'd had was hours ago. Moonshine wasn't something he was used to.

Ruth studied him in silence, knowing he was offended but her fear through all of this new excitement of getting in to the racing world was that he would change. She affectionately called him Hollywood at times but she didn't want him to take on certain characteristics that came with that name. She wanted Jesse to stay the way he was, caring, kind hearted, and sharp as a whip. Ruth's secret fear was that racing, and the prestige soon to come with it, would turn him in to someone he wasn't.

"Just...don't ever change, ok?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the comment. "Why would I change?"

"That's a whole other world, Jesse. I don't want to see it taint you."

His expression softened and she could tell he understood. "I'll be ok."

"Promise?"

He crossed his heart the way they used to when they were little. "Promise." Reaching out he wrapped her in a hug and smirked when she pushed him away.

"Get out of that disgusting jacket and get it in the wash!"

He'd started laughing and retreated to his room.

"You know some changes are allowed!" Like you can stop being annoying!"

He peeked around the door frame. "Your life would be boring otherwise."

* * *

Months passed and Jesse could tell his sister was getting jealous of everyone taking up the boys' time. He wasn't changing, he wouldn't allow it, despite what she may have thought at times. He did everything he could to cut time on the track short after a race. He was able to duck out quickly on days he didn't finish first, but as those instances were becoming few and far between, he had to start resorting to cutting press time short. Journalist and photographers didn't seem to mind, and as long as they had a photo of that charming boyish smile and a quick comment to throw in the caption, he was free to do as he pleased.

 _The charming young Mr. Hudson is as sharp in person as he is on a track. He treats everyone whose clamoring for his attention with the same courtesy you expect from a small town southern boy. In ou_ _r particular experience we'd caught him leaving the press box, asking if he was related to the Hudson Motor Car Company. He popped the button of the collar on the familiar looking racing jacket, still dusty and exhausted from an afternoon on the track, but he'd smiled and shook his head even as he walked in front of us all down the hallway. His brief comment being: "No, but it sure works out nicely doesn't it?" Related or not, Jesse Hudson's a name not to forget. We look forward to many years covering his success on the track!_

 _Fab Hud Hornet talk of the town!_

 _Changing faces of Piston Cup. How the Hudson Hornet is setting the standard in the game of racing._

 _Hudson Motor Car Company credits new racer Jesse Hudson for jump in sales._

"Well, young Mr. Hudson, what can I do for you today?"

"Good morning, Mr. Washburn." He smiled.

Thomasville Merch, the little mercantile store was always bustling with people, and there were a few tables near the front counter where the older gentlemen of Thomasville tended to gather and spend their day hashing out the latest news over coffee.

"Nice job this weekend, Jesse."

"Thank you, sir." He nodded to Mr. Rhodes from down the road, smiling.

"Didn't realize you had all that speed in such a scrawny frame." One of his old teachers added, for the life of him he couldn't remember the man's name.

"Car does most the work." He grinned before turning his attention back to the store owner. "I'm here to pick up the orders my sister called in."

"Of course, came in this morning. How is Ruth, anyway?"

"Doing well."

"And Henry Jr?" Jesse was surprised somewhat before remembering that their father and Mr. Washburn had been good friends. Of course he'd remember the eldest Hudson boy was a Jr.

"Ha-" He grinned again. "A little surprised with all the attention lately."

"Well you boys deserve it. I know how hard you've both worked." He leaned against the counter. "You really go up to Michigan?"

"Yes, sir."

He tapped the counter once with his knuckle. "I don't believe everything the paper tells me but I told old Joe that you couldn't have gotten the car anywhere else. He owes me a round now."

Jesse reached for his wallet as the packages and groceries were brought up to the counter, for the first time in his life unafraid to hear what the bill would be.

"You stocking up for winter?" The elder clerk grinned.

"Just stocking up."

He waited for his change and glanced back into his wallet briefly before looking back up. "Sir, I'd like to pay off the old tab."

"Jesse." The man smiled, lowering his tone. "That was forgiven when your mother passed."

"I realize that sir, but I'd prefer to have it taken care of."

Washburn considered him a moment before nodding. "Alright. Let me find it." He'd forgiven the money owed the store at the news of Sarah Hudson's death, knowing the kids had enough on their plates to deal with, he could never deny three kids the basic necessities needed to live. While the debt had been forgiven, he'd still had to keep the paper for record keeping.

Jesse rocked on his toes, looking about the store until the man returned. Once handed the paper over the counter, he unfolded it and read over the bottom total before he passed it back.

"I'll be right back."

Washburn set the paper under the register and glanced disapprovingly toward the men at the table as they less than subtly watched Jesse run back to the car parked in front of the store front. It was hard to miss. With the kid's first season only half over, the Hornet stood out like a neon sign with all that fancy paint work.

The men's heads swiveled in unison as they tracked his movements back through the door and to the counter front.

Jesse held out the personal check he'd just written. "Here you are."

He put the slip in the register without looking it over. "Do you need help with these packages?"

"Please."

They got the back of the Hornet loaded and Jesse stood kicking the rear right tire lightly as he readily answered any questions Mr. Washburn posed about the car or Piston Cup.

The men at the table watched as he returned to the storefront and waved a hand as the Hudson pulled away from the curb. He pushed the glass door open and commented as he retrieved the old paper from under the register and tore it in half.

"Henry and Sarah sure raised some good kids."

He got a chorus of murmured agreements from the other two.

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous."

"You're _jealous._ "

"I am not, and what are you even doing here."

"I took the bus from the hotel. If Daddy's in Arizona with mom, then you need another Piston at the race. Family appearance and all that."

The Carolinas were beautiful, but Emily wasn't going to spend a day at the beach or sit in the hotel alone. A race seemed much more interesting.

"You're here to see Hud aren't you."

"I'm here to see _a race._ It just so happens that The Fabulous Hudson Hornet also races for Piston Cup. Why does anyone call him Hud anyway?"

He only shrugged, he really didn't know. "So who are you cheering for." Alex asked, propping his elbows back on the wall.

"I don't care, I just want to see a race."

"Uh huh."

She looked horribly out of place standing in front of him near the line up of cars. The dress she wore was too expensive to be walking around in the dirt, she shouldn't have left the Piston personal box below the press box. She shouldn't have been down there. He didn't like the attention she was drawing.

On the other end of the line up of cars it was a different story.

Jesse, Junior and River all stood in a half circle, which seemed customary anymore before a race and looked over the cream colored Ambassador that was parked behind River's Racer.

"I've never seen one on a track."

"Yeah well no one ever saw a Hornet on a track and I'm doing ok."

"True, but this isn't nearly as low centered as your Hornet."

"Get a good look at the bumper, you'll be seeing a lot of it." All three looked up in unison to see a young woman around their age approaching. "If they ever get around to getting me a number. _Mr._ Piston seems to be dragging his feet, even though the rest of the board have given me the go ahead."

"He's not here this weekend." Jesse replied.

"I know." She grinned. "That's why I'm here."

Junior leaned back against his own car, crossing his arms. "He'll have a fit when he finds out."

"And the rest of you?" She countered, looking between the three.

Junior shrugged, Jesse shook his head and River commented. "If you can drive you can race. Just another car in the field to us."

"You won't have much to worry about. Word going around is that miss Emily's here. He'll be more preoccupied with that than whether you're racing or not." Junior added.

Jesse would never understand it. There was a perfectly good car sitting at home that he and Henry had made sure Ruth knew how to drive. Even before he'd started racing. There were too many times she was left on her own during the day, whether it was because Jesse was working a side job or because he was helping Henry. They'd all agreed that if there was an emergency such as the house or barn catching fire, that they weren't going to allow Ruth to be trapped and abandoned that way. She had a vehicle at her disposal should she need one.

She was a good driver too, they'd seen to that.

"If you race, you need a number." River looked back at the newcomer.

"I'm working on it."

"How'd you get signed in?"

"I happened to be the one who took over sign ins ten minutes before it closed." Her's was the last name on the roster, and she'd changed before she'd brought the car around.

"Name's Louise Nash, by the way."

The boys all introduced themselves before going back to her dilemma over a number.

"Don't they have some of those quick decal numbers for walk ons."

"Yeah but I think only authorized personnel are permitted in the areas they're kept."

Louise noticed the three all come to the same conclusion at once as they all straightened up in unison.

"I think we've solved your problem, Miss Nash."

The four all marched off the track and entered the enclosed hallway under the bleachers. She'd kept up with Piston but hadn't realized how _young_ they all were. She'd expected them to be older than her, not the same age.

A newly appointed Piston administrator caught them in the hallway. "Shouldn't you all be track side?"

"You know the deal. Hurry up and wait." Jesse commented before making a face. "What's with the suit?"

"Promotion." The man beamed.

"I thought you liked being out there." He stopped in front of the man and kept his attention away from the door that Junior and River opened silently before Louise slipped in.

"I do, but the pay is better on this side."

"Pencil pushing?" He glanced over the man's shoulder subtly. _Hurry up!_

"You'd be surprised."

River made a helpless gesture at Jesse's expression.

"Well Piston Cup is full of surprises." He commented.

"Going to see any from you?"

"Oh...you'll be surprised by someone, I'm sure."

"Look forward to it."

He flashed a press smile, seeing Louise finally rejoin the other two and close the door. Junior motioned that they'd meet him outside and left the other direction.

"Yeah me too. I'll see you around."

He ducked quickly under the fence once he'd made it outside and joined the others.

"It doesn't matter if they're not even. As long as it's the same number on both sides."

"That's the problem I had, I couldn't find the matching number for the longest time." Louise commented while smoothing the number on the driver side door out.

"There's Hud. You're holding up the race!"

"I am not."

* * *

"What's taking so long?"

"I guess they're waiting on a couple drivers..." Alex answered from where he leaned against his car. He looked back toward his sister. "You should go back to the box."

"I don't have to leave until first call."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this."

"I spend a lot of time alone...I read."

He shrugged and noticed the navy and white racing jacket duck under the fence to return to the track up ahead. "Of course it'd be him."

"What is your problem with him."

"No name kid who comes from a no name town? What do you think my problem is?"

"That you need to learn some humility."

"You need to learn to take our name seriously."

She raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

" _Piston,_ Emily. Our name is _Piston._ You should start acting like one."

"If you expect me to cowtail to you, you've got another thing coming Alexander. I deal with enough of it from everyone else, I won't put up with it from you." She was already tired of the expectations of the demure, mouse like behavior from the big shots of Piston Cup and the sport was barely on its feet. She wasn't just a show piece to be seen and not heard.

"You're not even listening!" She continued when she realized he was looking toward the front of the line up.

With a huff she looked around his shoulder to see what was so interesting and blinked a few times in surprise.

A young woman stood amongst the group usually seen with Hudson. Emily was dumbstruck to see her holding a helmet in one hand and standing beside the open door of a light colored car. That was her cue to hit the road. Partially because she wanted to see how this turned out from the seats in her families personal box, and partially because she didn't want to be track side when the sparks started flying.

"Good luck." She muttered quickly before leaving for the stands, glancing over her shoulder once at the group at the front of the pack. He was going to need it.

* * *

"Third isn't bad."

"Easy to say when you're the one to come in first."

Jesse only shrugged, getting the dirt from his eyes with a rag. "Still not bad. Noticed you were the target for Piston this time."

"What _is_ his problem?"

"You're the new kid in town." Jesse threw the rag aside and ditched the jacket. Even his white shirt beneath was covered in dirt. "And a woman."

"If we're so fragile you'd think he'd be more careful."

Jesse didn't reply, having no answer for Piston's actions. He changed the subject. "Bunch of us meetin' at the place I'm stayin' at later if you're interested."

"Oh?"

He nodded with a shrug. "Cards, food, whatever really."

"Sure."

"Great." He grinned and grabbed a scrap of paper to write down the hotel and room number. "Door's always open."

He gave her a hearty pat on the back and commented before going in search of his brother. "Welcome to the club."


	9. Let's Take a Vote

"Someone needs to put him in his place." Junior muttered as he joined the group on the hotel room balcony.

River snagged one of the few chairs and squinted up at the others leaning against the railing. "Then you'll need another weekend his father isn't around."

"I don't think Edward Piston would say anything one way or the other. I'm sure he knows what most the drivers think of Alex. He's more interested in his sport thriving than that pampered brat."

"Jesse-" Ruth admonished lightly beside him, but took the plate of food he held out to her.

He only raised a brow from behind his sunglasses and replied even as the conversation around them continued. "You haven't met him."

"He's right." Smokey added from her other side, stealing food and dodging her hand. "For once."

Ruth had wanted to go to the race but hadn't wanted to sit alone in the bleachers so she'd settled for staying at the hotel. Listening to the radio while staring out from the balcony, she'd enjoyed looking out over the beach and sitting in the sun. The surprise of the callers when they realized the driver of the Nash Ambassador was a young woman had been fun to listen to and she'd been surprised to meet her that afternoon.

It was hard to picture all of them as competitors. The easy going personalities were a far cry from the chaotic atmosphere she pictured on the track. What was even harder, was the realization that her brothers were becoming a fixture of that atmosphere. If there were two boys least likely to have the right personality for a high speed sport, it was those two. Yet somehow they were dominating. She was pulled out of her thoughts when the conversation picked up again.

"You think there will be problems after today?" Louise asked.

"Oh, I'm sure." Smokey finally added his two cents as he crossed his arms. "But what are they going to do? You took third place on your own merit. Even with Piston driving the way he was."

"I'm sure we'll be finding out soon enough."

It took longer than they expected. During sign ins for the race two weeks later, there was an announcement passed through the drivers that the start time was being pushed back by half an hour for a driver's meeting.

"Wonder what this is about." River commented sarcastically as they all gathered into the tiny conference room and went to find seats near the back.

It was too hot to be dealing with this nonsense. There were no fans running in the room and soon everyone was ditching their jackets to throw over their chairs.

All attention focused on the front as Edward Piston and Joe Moore entered and stood at the front table. Moore was barely two years older than most of the drivers, but his father was close with Piston.

And they said there were no politics in this.

The room quieted when Piston finally spoke. "I want to thank everyone for your patience and willingness to humor our request. I just want to pass along the fact that next week there will be a vote held post race over a few of the matters that have sprung up over the last few weeks."

He paused when quiet murmuring began throughout the room, no one was blind.

"There will be three or four questions on the ballot, you can vote anonymously-"

"Can we vote for Hudson Hornets to sit out every other race?" Was a joking comment from one side of the room.

It broke the tense atmosphere as a few drivers laughed or glanced back to see Jesse's reaction. He only shrugged a shoulder and gestured helplessly.

"Sorry, Sam."

"Figured it was worth a shot."

"You tried." He grinned before turning his attention back to Piston.

The sponsor continued. "I need to make a note that voting will only be opened to drivers that have participated in more than five races."

That's when the room broke in to agitated chattering. Drivers looking between themselves and at others with irritated and knowing expressions.

"Well I'm out."

"How's that-"

"This is only because of-"

Piston held both hands up and waited for the room to quiet again, but there was still whispering and murmuring. He was somewhat surprised to see a hand raised near the back of the room.

"Yes, Mr. Hudson?"

Jesse felt foolish sitting there with his hand in the air like he was a child in school but shouting across the room wasn't getting anywhere either.

The room fell silent and all eyes turned to look between the two.

"Well, I guess I'm just confused as to why it's not open to all drivers. This is everyone's decision isn't it?"

"It is, but we feel those with more experience on the track should be given more seniority. We're open to listen to everyone between now and next week but feel it should be drivers that started the season who make the final call."

"Rookies shouldn't vote either."

Jesse wasn't surprised by Alexander's comment but ignored him and continued. "What do the bylaws state?"

Both Piston and Moore looked startled.

"We've yet to ratify bylaws-"

"You mean I've raced over half a season for a sanctioned sport that has no ratified bylaws..."

"Get to your point, Hudson. No one cares." Alex grimaced.

"You'd be surprised how many of us do care." River hissed lowly.

"We're working on those bylaws, son. Trust me." Edward Piston finally answered.

"Yes, sir." Jesse sat back down and grabbed his jacket, silent for the rest of the meeting. He glanced once toward Louise and could tell she was fuming. No one would say what this was really about.

When they were dismissed, he flung his jacket on and followed her out the door.

"Thanks, Jesse, but this is-"

"Not going to happen."

She turned to face him when they made it outside and to the wall, one arm over her helmet. "You think they'd try to take the car?"

"Not in front of a packed house."

Louise nodded before putting her helmet on. "They're going to try to turn everyone on me." She didn't see it happening, but there were still some influential names involved.

"Well." She could tell Jesse was thinking, sounding distracted. "If they want to play politics. We'll play politics."

She won that day. The top five running; Nash, Scott, Hudson, Piston, and Green.

Poor Sam finally broke top five.

* * *

A week later they found themselves in another cramped conference room. This time tempers were running high, the race had been far from a clean run and if Alex got any closer to their group he was going to find himself with a broken nose.

Down with the heat, hair slick with sweat and in a foul mood, Jesse found a seat beside Scott and threw the papers he'd been carrying with him on to the little table.

"What's that?"

"Ammunition."

They were all testy, and the fact that security had kept Nash from joining the group had only added wood to the fire.

"Alright." Edward Piston settled them from the front of the room. "We're going to be passing out the ballots-"

He paused, Jesse hadn't raised his hand this time, he'd just stood up.

"Jesse-...?"

"I have a problem with this, sir."

"Why didn't you come during the week-"

"Because everyone should be aware of this."

Piston only gestured for Jesse to continue.

"I did some homework this week, and because we don't have bylaws, we should be following North Carolina's stated laws on voting."

"Let's just get our bylaws passed." Alex countered.

"That's not how it works." Jesse replied and the whole room could hear the condescending tone. "You wanna sit here through bringing laws to the table, motions, debates, first-seconds and vote on having something ratified, then send it to the _state_ to be made legal?"

Alex shut up, realizing he didn't know what half of that meant.

"What are North Carolina's laws on taking a vote?" Another driver asked.

"That it be a full democratic process." Jesse looked up from the table and made eye contact with Edward Piston. "All members involved hold a vote."

The man was nearly red in the face, and Jesse knew there could be repercussions down the road. "If this is a sport that's meant to be taken seriously, shouldn't we be setting an example of fair play?

Murmured agreements rippled through the room and all eyes turned expectantly on their sponsor.

Piston heaved an enormous sigh and gestured to the door. "Find them. You have ten minutes before that door is closed and voting starts."

River was the fastest (at least on foot) out of all of them and was out the door like a shot. He flew down the hallway and out the main doors to find a small group standing near the track, instead of running all the way over he shouted from the door.

"Vote's open to everyone, you have less than ten to get in here!"

The last driver slipped through the door just as Piston was pulling it closed.

It wouldn't have mattered, the vote was all but unanimous.

 _Any and all drivers, male or female, may participate in sanctioned Piston Cup races._

 _Qualifications include but are not limited to: A motor vehicle that can sustain the needed speeds on a Piston track, the ability to control said vehicle, ability to follow verbal and written instruction, and the ability to upkeep the maintenance of a personal vehicle._

* * *

"Isn't this just what's in the rule book?" Junior asked as he looked over the typed sheet they were handed hours later.

"That's just a rule book. Once they finalize the specifics to add to the bylaws, it will go in to the state's records." Smokey replied as he took the sheet from Jesse and read over it.

Louise read her own copy with a smile on her face before she looked up at Jesse. "How did you know any of that?"

He gestured between himself and Smokey. "Our father was an officer in the military. He was all about protocol."

"Well thank you." She shoved the paper in her back packet and hugged him quickly. "You don't know how much it means to me."

"Doesn't mean anyone will take it easy on you." Junior smirked.

"Please don't." She grinned as they all waved in parting as the Hudson brothers left. "It just makes it that much better when you all lose."

* * *

 **AN: Don't mess with the crew**


	10. Jefferson Memorial

**AN: Shout out to** **AllisonReader for some helpful thoughts and ideas. :)**

* * *

They fell in to an easy routine for the summer. The weeks were quiet and easy going up until Friday nights when Jesse would start to pace the house, checking and rechecking to make sure everything he needed would be readily available the next morning or Sunday depending how far they'd have to travel for the next race. Luckily this was a closer one.

Ruth would never understand how he could know exactly where everything was one day, to then be missing something they couldn't leave the house without the next. She'd threatened to glue his helmet to his head at least once, and that if he ever lost that jacket he better expect to never speak to her again.

"One of these days you'll forget the car."

"Think I'd have to cash it in if that day ever came." He'd replied.

"You need one of those trailers..."

"Working on it." He'd replied with an enigmatic smile.

She followed him outside and down the steps. "What does that mean?" When he didn't answer she grew indignant. "Jesse, what does that mean!"

"It means I'm working on it." He smirked and threw his stuff in to the back seat of the Hornet.

She only huffed and crossed her arms, they didn't have time to be going back and forth like this. The boys needed to leave.

"Be careful..." Her stomach would be in knots until they made it back home.

"Always." Jesse said from the passenger side, leaning out the window.

She kissed Smokey on the cheek quickly as he passed and told him to drive safe. She was proud of them but was ready for the season to be over. Ruth didn't enjoy watching that car drive away so often.

* * *

Smokey had only just walked in to the house but was startled to see his brother come flying down the stairs late that Sunday. After a race the kid tended to do as little as possible. Aside from getting the car situated and himself cleaned up, Jesse could sleep through an entire afternoon on any given Sunday.

Joan had made a comment once that she didn't understand how he could sleep all day and Smokey had defended with the fact that they were usually up by four-thirty, even on days that they raced more local tracks. Between making sure everything was absolutely perfect and the physical stress of a day on the track, he noted that the amount of _mental_ fatigue after focusing for so long behind the wheel of a car was incredibly draining. He never faulted Jesse for sleeping on Sundays, not when he was constantly finishing so high in the rankings.

So to see him rushing down the stairs at quarter after two, he was concerned.

"What's-"

"How far is Jefferson Memorial?"

"Forty-five minutes maybe?" He looked up the stairs knowing there was only one reason for that question. "Is she-?"

"It's been two hours and she can't get a handle on it-"

Smokey cursed lowly and started up the stairs. "Get the car started."

He was halfway up the steps when he heard the powerful engine of the Hornet outside and could tell Jesse had brought it around to the front of the house. It idled impatiently on the dirt road at the bottom of the steps.

He knocked once on the door frame before looking in to see Ruth sitting up on the bed. She looked exhausted, breath coming in short, quick, gasps when she was able to keep a coughing fit at bay.

"Alright, Little Dipper, come on." His tone was soft as he entered the room and rested a hand on the middle of her back. "Relax."

"Sorry-"

"Don't be sorry for anything."

"Jesse is panicking."

"Jesse is always panicking, that's nothing new." He watched her quietly. He was panicking himself, he was just better at hiding it. "Can you get up?"

She started to but began coughing once more so he cut her off.

"Nevermind. Here. Arms around my neck."

"I'm not a little girl."

"No, but you are my little sister and we need to get you to a doctor. Come on."

She relented and allowed him to carry her downstairs, she looked around his shoulder to see Jesse jump to the ground from halfway up the front steps and meet them at the car. She grinned in appreciation at his attempt for levity.

"Didn't think you'd ever ride in a famous race car did you?"

She'd closed her eyes, leaning in to her older brother's shoulder and listening to the sound of the engine as they left the homestead. Jefferson Memorial was the closest hospital that had any idea how to treat whatever it was she had. Jesse had contemplated selling the house the year before to move closer but she'd refused. There was too much family history in that house.

Her brothers had gotten pretty good at this and she appreciated their attention and concern but she couldn't help but feel like a burden. Her last image of the two before she'd been carted off to a room had been veiled fear. Guilt settled heavily in her lungs, stealing what little room there was left for oxygen.

That guilt only increased when she was told visiting hours were over. A nurse had gone to inform her brothers.

She hated the hospital. She wanted her family. She wanted Smokey, and she wanted Hollywood.

Ruth held back her tears until her treatments were over, when she was alone in the wing and the lights were dimmed for the evening. She stared across at the far wall and wondered what the boys were doing and if they had at least been told she was ok.

"She's gunna be fine, Hollywood. They're keeping her overnight to make sure it doesn't flair up again."

Smokey had only gotten a noncommittal shrug and a muttered comment he couldn't make out as Jesse trudged up the stairs once they'd returned home.

Smokey wasn't surprised when the kid slept right through in to the next morning.

* * *

"I wondered what was wrong, he wasn't himself on the track yesterday."

It had been a little over a week and Ruth always laid low for a while after dealing with a scare. She sat on the porch swing and kicked at the floor with a bare foot while looking out toward the garden. "His head's in the clouds when he's worried about anything."

"You have a great family."

She looked away from the far treeline and toward Louise.

"Those two would protect you with their life."

Ruth didn't reply, asking the obvious would make her look foolish.

"Not many people ask, so I don't tend to share either." Louise started. "But the car I use on the track, the Ambassador? It's from my uncle's company."

"Nash Motors...I'd wondered, actually."

"He's got no children of his own so when I asked about driving for him I thought he was going to cry."

There was a lengthy pause before she continued. "My parents had different thoughts though, they humored me for a while but when they realized I was serious they threatened to disown me."

"What?"

She only nodded.

"But- Louise you're their _child-_ "

"I know..."

"Are-"

"After my first race I went to stay with my uncle until I could afford my own place."

Ruth had no idea how to respond to that.

"I haven't spoken to them in a while."

"Do any of-?

"No." Lou shook her head quickly. "I've never mentioned it to the boys, any of them." All four of them had taken it upon themselves to become surrogate brothers. She'd lost two family members and gained four. Five if you wanted to include Ruth.

It hadn't taken long to consider them family either.

"They drive me crazy sometimes."

Ruth blinked a few times, taking a moment to catch up. "Brothers do that."

They knew all the right buttons to push and when to push them.

"But they're also really protective." Ruth added.

"Did you hear about yesterday?"

She shook her head.

"There was a fight after the race. Someone finally got tired of Piston's comments."

"What?" Ruth's eyes widened and she looked out to where her brothers were working on the Hornet. Neither of them had mentioned anything.

"No, no. They weren't involved." She smirked, remembering Jesse's comment. _Not getting between flying fists for him._

"Alex has a nice shiner though."

Ruth was quiet a few moments, unsure how to voice her thoughts. "Racing is dangerous..."

"Only as dangerous as you make it."

"You sound like Jesse."

She shrugged, looking out toward where the Hudson brothers were working also.

One thing Ruth admired in her friend was her ability to hold her own out there on the track. She was totally capable, and had proven she was through the rest of the season, but she did it without _being_ one of the boys. Louise could take care of her own car, but she hadn't handed in her dresses and heels either.

The conversation faded as sounds of a vehicle coming up the drive pulled they're attention away from watching the boys. Ruth couldn't place the clattering and clanging until a truck with an empty trailer came in to view. It took a moment until she understood what she was looking at.

"He got a trailer..."

"Not just a trailer..."

Another vehicle pulled up behind the truck and trailer, and when Ruth really took a moment to look over the rig that was parked beside the Hornet, she realized the truck was also a Hudson.

"Jesse has been having a hard time keeping that to himself."

"He told you?"

"Only because he didn't want to tell either of you. He wanted it to be a surprise."

Ruth waited impatiently on the porch, not wanting to intrude in the conversation between her brothers and these newcomers as they went over the truck and trailer. She could tell just by their body language that Jesse was pleased and Henry was surprised.

It was barely half an hour but she felt like she'd been waiting for ages when the strangers finally went to leave in the second car that had been brought. She was down the steps before it had left the drive.

"Did you know about this?" Smokey asked.

She shook her head, admiring the truck and immediately going to investigate the inside as she opened the driver's side door. "No. Just that a trailer was in the works."

"Well you can't haul a trailer with the Ford." Jesse replied. "That wouldn't look good going to the track."

Louise watched from her place on the porch swing and grinned as Smokey put an arm over Hud's shoulders. Unsurprisingly, Scott and Moon arrived shortly after and she started down the steps to join the group.

She cared for this family more than she'd expected to.


	11. Taxi Service

If Jesse were more melodramatic he'd be resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

Seeing that he was only somewhat dramatic, he settled on staring up at the ceiling of the Hornet.

At least the summer temperatures had started to drop and he didn't feel like he was dying sitting there in the driver's seat while waiting for Joan to come back out of the store. She was the only one still looking for something to give Henry for his birthday.

"Can't you just make him something..." He muttered lowly to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ruth hadn't wanted to go, and he'd glared daggers over Joan's shoulder at her. Ruth or Henry were always the buffer between the two.

It wasn't that they didn't like each other, but the mutual problem between the two was that they both thought they were disliked by the other. Instead of just clearing the air and discussing the issue, they both settled on believing there was some form of animosity from the other.

He'd continue to believe she hated his career choice and she'd continue to believe he disliked her just for who she was.

It made for uncomfortable get togethers.

Now with the fact that the truck was considered Jesse's early birthday gift, it had somehow turned in to a competition.

"I'm just making a meal." Ruth had said that morning, raising both hands and shaking her head when he had complained. "I'm just doing what I always do."

"It's not really a _birthday_ gift." Jesse had sighed, looking out the window to where the trailer had been left. "That's just when they finally brought it."

"The fact that you paid for half makes everyone think it's a birthday gift."

"Yeah well that's the deal I had to make with Hudson."

"No one else knows that."

He'd only groaned and gone to get ready to go, still under the impression that Ruth would be going with them that afternoon.

But no, he found himself being a chauffeur in his own car.

He'd jumped when there was a knock on the window and rolled it down to glare at Junior who smirked and knelt beside the door with his arms rested on the frame.

"Hudson Hornet providing taxi services now."

"Funny."

"I gotta lot of places I need to go."

"If you drove as fast as you come up with these quips, I'd be more afraid of my chances this season."

"Oh, that was harsh."

"You started it."

He shrugged and changed the subject. "When are we supposed to be at your place?"

"Whenever." Jesse shrugged. "Door's always open."

Junior nodded and pushed himself away from the car as he stood again. "I'd stick around but your comment on my driving has made me less inclined to do so."

"Ah, come on-"

"No, you've brought this on yourself Hudson. I got places to go remember."

"Junior!"

"Have fun shopping."

Jesse heaved a sigh and went back to staring at the ceiling. He didn't look away again until the passenger door opened.

Joan wasn't much taller than Ruth but that's about where their similarities ended. Where Ruth had dark hair and blue eyes, Joan had very blonde hair and dark eyes. Joan looked more suited for the cities up north, like what Jesse had seen in Michigan. Thomasville was too slow paced and quiet.

Which didn't explain why it was home to a bunch of racers but he didn't feel like putting much thought in to it at the moment.

"Where to?" He asked, hiding his grogginess. He'd nearly fallen asleep waiting.

"I think we're done." She fished her purchase out of a bag filled with tissue paper and held it up to get his opinion. "What do you think? Would he like something like that?"

Jesse eyed the watch she held before nodding. He knew Henry would like anything she gave him but he'd definitely get use out of her gift.

He smirked as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. "He's always telling me we're late anyway."

* * *

"Jesse Hudson, you touch this cake and you will be missing a hand, so help me."

"I'm admiring."

"Admire from over there, please."

"I feel like there's a story behind that." Junior muttered as Jesse joined him at the table.

"Good one too." He grinned.

"Do not encourage him." Ruth pointed between the two with a knife.

"Your sister is intimidating."

"Tell Henry that, he doesn't believe me."

It was still hard to believe at times that within a year they'd gone from two or three gathering in the house to eight or ten depending on how many drivers stopped in. The core group alone always made it a gathering of at least six. It was a far cry from Jesse and Ruth being on their own.

Smokey finally joined the group but hung back and watched from where he stood in the doorway. He watched as the group sat around the table, not sure what the conversation was but the smiles on his sibling's faces as they listened to a story River was relating was enough for him. They'd had a rough couple of years. So to see the tension no longer lingering in the house, the twins _genuinely_ happy as the group broke in to laughter, and for once without a care in the world other than when the food would be ready, he was happy. They'd gone from counting pennies to having two brand new vehicles between them, and Jesse's chances of the Piston Cup that season were high.

He knew they were there to celebrate his birthday and through conversations over the last week knew that there'd been some drama over getting _the right gift_ , but this was all he wanted.

"What's wrong?" Joan stood beside him and looked up.

"Absolutely nothing." He looked down toward her with a smile as he put an arm around her.

* * *

 **AN: Happy families make me happy :)**


	12. 1951 Piston Cup

There was a sense of guilt that lingered just beneath Ruth's relief that this was the last race of the season. She'd attended very few races in person but had a front row seat in seeing her brothers continue to learn the ins and outs of the sport throughout the summer. She'd worried over their health during the hottest months, but as autumn crept in, the temperatures dropped and the afternoon shadows lengthened, she felt better. Especially when the summer humidity dissipated into the crispness of fall. It was for that reason alone that she made more of an effort to make it to the last race. She'd stood by and watched as the boys secured the Hornet on the trailer.

"I expect a long and _quiet_ break when this is all over." She commented while putting her sweater on.

Jesse jumped down from the trailer and stood beside her. "What no vacation?"

"Maybe-"

"We deserve one, you know."

" _We-?_ "

"Ok, you deserve one after dealing with us."

"Get in the truck." Smokey cut in as he passed them. "You can figure it out on the way."

She grinned and looked toward her twin who only raised both brows before he rolled his eyes and held an arm out in silent gesture for her to go ahead of him.

"What about New York City?" She asked once they'd gotten on the road.

Jesse looked up at her from where he was slouched against the truck's passenger door with an incredulous expression. "What?"

"I'd like to see New York City." She grinned, her idea gaining ground and her excitement over that idea becoming apparent. She hit his shoulder excitedly with an open palm. "Oh, let's go around Christmas!"

"Ow-!"

"That did not hurt." Smokey threw in patiently as he drove, grinning at his sister's enthusiasm.

"Why New York City?" Jesse huffed while rubbing his shoulder. "It'll be cold."

"Because I said I wanted to go, and you said it'd be my vacation."

"She has a point."

"You're not part of this debate." Jesse leaned forward to look at his older brother warningly.

"He'd go too. He worked hard this summer." Ruth countered.

"That means I get a vote." Smokey commented smugly.

Jesse huffed and slouched against the door again, realizing he had nothing to hold up his argument. He spent the rest of the drive thinking over what local stores would have the best heavy coats for a vacation in December up north.

* * *

"What are you doin' down here, Joe?" Smokey asked in an amiable tone as he undid the last of the chains holding the Hornet in place. He waved a hand to let Jesse know he could back it off the trailer.

"Just wanted to see what it as like down here. Never really been in the thick of it."

Smokey only made a sound of acknowledgment and glanced in his direction once before making sure everything was in order with his brother and the car. He was a little surprised Moore was hanging around to see anything involving the behind the scenes work at all. Or that he was conversing with anyone other than Piston.

"You get signed in yet?" He asked Jesse through the open window.

"As soon as I get the car parked."

He checked his watch. "You better go now, I'll park the car."

"Your watch is ten minutes fast-"

He only gave the kid a look. "Get out of the car and go get signed in."

Jesse huffed and shut the car off before getting out. "Yeah, ok..."

Smokey shoved him lightly in the direction he needed to go. "After today you won't have to listen to me for another six months."

"Look forward to it."

"Go."

"I'm going."

Smokey realized Joe was still there and paused. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I wanted to congratulate the team before the race started."

Smokey only inclined his head. "Thanks, but haven't won yet."

"Don't have to. You could scratch this race completely and you'll still walk away with the Cup."

"Pardon?"

"You know it's not just one race that determines that, right?"

"Yeah-"

He slapped Smokey's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Congratulations." He went to step away and stopped short when he felt the other grasp his arm.

"Don't say anything to him yet."

He hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks."

Smokey released him and nodded, silent as he allowed Moore to leave and got in the Hudson to get it parked in the line up.

"You ready?"

He'd just gotten out and turned away from the car to see Jesse had jogged up, face flushed and eyes bright as he looked away from the track and toward him.

There may have only been five years separating them but he felt a rush of near paternal pride as he stepped back and took a moment to study his brother. Jesse was never nervous before a race but he would get fidgety, it would only really present itself when he would drum his fingers on the car, or on his helmet before he put it on. It was as if he were the embodiment of race time adrenaline, with nowhere else to go, it thrummed through his lean frame until working itself out through his limbs.

They'd won the Piston Cup.

He and his twenty year old brother, who'd traveled to Michigan only over a year ago, who had put more energy in to this than he'd ever seen him do anything, had won the Piston Cup.

He couldn't tell him now, he needed Jesse to focus at least a few more hours and cross that finish line safely. They could celebrate later.

* * *

"Dad's gunna pitch a fit."

"He hasn't so far."

Alex had grown accustomed to seeing his sister before a race and it seemed that she'd never been reprimanded for it. He began to think it was because she wouldn't have listened anyway.

Another recognizable face to promote Piston Cup was always welcome.

"Play nice, Alexander." She commented while studying his helmet. She never got much of a chance to see any of their stuff up close. She'd spent the year learning about why different model cars did better than others, why a driver might favor certain gear over other brands but she never got to _see_ it. Reading was one thing and she was book smart, but these drivers were street smart and applied what she only knew in theory. She wished she could get to know a few of them aside from her brother.

Alex wasn't exactly a wealth of knowledge.

She glanced up, still messing with the straps on the helmet while Alex went over a few last minute things. Her attention was directed ahead of them, though, to the group up on Alex's right as a number of drivers stood in a circle and joked amiably amongst themselves.

Emily drew her mouth in to a thin line and looked down again. They weren't ever really included in those circles, and she knew it was because of her name. One of these days she'd gather the courage to walk in to one of those groups, but for now she stood beside her brother's car.

"Did you hear me?"

"What?"

"I didn't think you did, what are you daydreaming about?"

"Nothing." She replied forcefully. "What did you say?"

"That I always play nice." He grinned while taking his helmet from her.

"That's a ten dollar lie if I've ever heard one." She muttered, distracted.

Even though he carried the last name of Piston, her brother had never won a Piston Cup in the few years the sport had been presenting it. She highly doubted he would this year.

"It's just a little push and shove." He inclined his head while getting his helmet situated.

No wonder none of the other drivers associated with them. She hated to think of what they might think of her. She caught herself glancing toward the group ahead of them again.

"Hey!"

"Huh, what?"

"Why is your head in the clouds?"

She shook her head. "It's not."

"Had me fooled." He followed the direction her gaze had been lingering and he huffed.

"They're a bunch of nobodies, Emily."

"At least they smile."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well they won't be in a few hours."

"Why?" She looked back toward him hesitantly.

"They'll have nothing to smile about when I've won The Piston Cup."

 _Oh..._

She had the distinct feeling he was in for a surprise. An uneasiness settled over her, afraid of how he was going to react when a very specific nobody took what he thought belonged to him.

"This is the last race." She bit her lip before continuing. "Please just run a clean one."

"Sure thing." He replied a little too quickly for her, but she wasn't able to question him on it as they'd made the first call.

When the race was over, she'd stayed in the stands, keeping an eye on the Chevy while the press turned their interest on the navy blue Hornet. Her first choice would be to go and offer congratulations, but as she started toward the track she knew she'd be running reconnaissance and keeping her brother away from the excitement.

* * *

"Who does he think he is!" Alex threw the helmet across the dimly lit office under the bleachers.

Emily stared at where the helmet had landed and then looked back at him. "He's a good driver, Alex. That's all."

She was disappointed in him, but realized she shouldn't have expected more.

"Some stupid kid comes out of nowhere and has taken over _Piston Cup_! How does he do it!"

She shrugged a shoulder, feigning indifference but his behavior had her on edge. She'd much rather be out on the track. "I've never spoken to him, how should I know."

"No one is that good, Emily."

"He doesn't cheat. If that's what you're implying."

"How do you know? You just said you've never spoken to him."

She only watched her brother, she didn't have concrete proof, he just didn't seem the type.

Alex paced a few more times back and forth before pausing and looking toward the desk. "I think we need to really work on those bylaws."

She blinked, he'd lost her. "What?"

He walked back to the desk and picked up the packet of suggested regulations.

" _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet-_." He started with disdain. "Is a stickler for rules."

Emily frowned, concerned with where this was going.

"Maybe we should shorten the reins a little bit."

* * *

"You did it! I can't believe you did it!" Ruth threw her arms around her brother's neck. Her heart had been pounding during those final laps of the race and she'd rushed down to the track as soon as it was over.

They both laughed as she hugged him fiercely before she stepped back to dry her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I just-I can't believe it!" She hugged him again. "I'm so proud of you.

"It's not only me."

The surrounding chaos had dissipated and they were left standing in a small cluster as the dirt continued to settle. The 1951 Piston Cup sat on the roof of the Hornet as they spoke in animated tones.

"Well I know Henry does so much-"

Jesse cut her off. "Henry does do a lot, but I'm talking about you."

Ruth hesitated, looking between her brothers.

"You've put up with so much, Little Dipper." His voice had lowered, this was a family conversation. "You've taken care of us and been there when we needed it. You've never once complained even though I'm sure you wished you could have. You've listened to me rattled on and on for the last year and a half about this sport and never once told me to stop."

How many nights had she listened to him admit to fears and concerns over whether this was the right thing. How many times had he stopped himself from admitting to her that so much of this was _for_ her, was he forgetting about her as he got wrapped up in the attention and their little circle of three or four had expanded in to so many more.

"You're our backbone, Ruth Anne. We can't do this without you."

Ok, now she was really crying, and Jesse was concerned he wouldn't be able to breathe if she didn't let go.

"I just want to see you both do well, that's all."

"Well you succeed." He'd grinned before turning to take the Piston Cup off the roof of the Hornet, admiring it with a smile.

"Is it heavy?" She asked.

"A little."

"Good." Smokey took it from him and looked it over as the crew joined them from getting their gear situated and end of the season formalities taken care of. "The weight will keep him from sticking his nose up at us."

"Hey."

"We don't need another Alexander Piston on our hands." Louise commented as she joined them.

"Oh, that was a low blow"

"Spend too much time around you." She raised a brow.

"Too bad the driving skills don't wear off too-" He'd barely been able to finish his comeback, laughing as he dodged her hand.

"Lucky you're fast."

"I do have a trophy to prove it now."

"Smokey take it and melt it down." Junior commented.

"He doesn't deserve it."

"Woah! Whose side are you two on!" Jesse looked toward River and Junior.

Didn't win the Cup." Junior gestured to it in Smokey's hands. "But if we melt it down I'm sure it's worth a lot."

"Nope. We're done." Jesse marched over and took the item in question from his brother. "You're all just sore losers. Ruth's the only one I can trust."

"How much do you think it would get?" She asked Junior.

"Ruth Anne!" Jesse shouted, looking scandalized.

"I'm just curious." She shrugged.

"Enough for an extended vacation to New York City, I'm sure." Smokey added with a knowing look toward his brother.

"You people are unusually cruel."

"But we love you, Hollywood." Ruth caught up to her brother and kissed his cheek. On Jesse's other side, Smokey stole the trophy back.

"Henry!"

River stepped to the side nonchalantly to allow Smokey to get past, grinning at the two still standing beside him. "I've never seen him move that fast."

* * *

 **AN: Alex is not a nice guy.**


	13. NYC

**AN: Somewhat uneventful, but Ruth did request a nice quiet break.**

* * *

They were there for the week, having left just after Christmas, they would be there for New Year and head home the day or so after.

Right after the end of the racing season Ruth had started figuring out everything needed to know for the trip. Smokey thought Jesse was meticulous, he couldn't hold a candle to their sister. She'd had everything under control to the smallest detail, which made it easy on the boys, they just needed to know the day they were leaving and the day they'd be back.

Jesse hadn't been too thrilled with the news of another driver's meeting less than three days after they'd get home, apparently the higher ups thought the off season would be a good time to round up the teams and finally hash out and fine tune the regulations. When he'd set out to drive in Piston Cup he hadn't expected so much litigation.

Ruth had admonished him on the train to get his head out of the clouds. He could worry about his precious career when they got back home. It would still be there and they wouldn't make such monumental decisions without all their drivers being present, and certainly not without the say of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

Luckily for them, he wasn't recognized up north. Or if he was, he was never approached.

Ruth had woken up on the fifth morning of their stay to snow coating the balcony outside. She stood in front of the chilled window and could just make out a few individual flakes that had stuck to the trim of the sliding door. She remembered reading somewhere that all snowflakes were unique, and looking over just the small space of the balcony, she wondered how _all_ of them could actually be that different from each other. She put her hand up against the glass and waited as the cold prickled against her skin and through her fingers. Her breath fogged the glass in front of her and her gaze settled there briefly. It was strangely life affirming, physical evidence that _yes, she could actually breathe._

She spent a few moments considering that thought before deciding it was too early for such lofty thinking. She was the only one awake and she doubted either of the boys would appreciate being woken just to see fogged glass.

So instead she occupied herself a few moments with breathing over the glass and writing her name with her finger or drawing little designs here or there. She watched them fade slowly but grinned, knowing they were still there.

She glanced over her shoulder and was just able to see in to the main area. They'd opted for a suite and the boys had given her the largest room with access to the balcony. She tapped her fingers on the glass a few times before turning away, figuring she'd at least make herself coffee, maybe tea. Her hand was freezing by now and she flexed her fingers a few times as she left the room.

Walking through the main area, she smirked to see Jesse had moved out to the couch, or maybe he'd just fallen asleep out there reading the night before. Either way, her grin bordered on the side of cruel when he hissed and glared up at her blearily. She'd pressed the fingers of her cold hand to the side of his neck as she passed.

"What is wrong with you." He'd muttered even as he got comfortable again.

"Thought you needed a wake up call."

Jesse hated the cold, and she loved to torment him with it.

He grabbed his watch from the end table and looked at it from his awkward position before tossing it back. Ruth smirked at his half awake murmuring, that southern accent only ever really came out when he was tired. "Not even seven, Ruth Anne. Go back t'bed."

She left the room and returned shortly after with her newly made cup of tea and sat on the floor in front of the over sized couch. "I'm enjoying a quiet morning."

"Quiet involves silence." He replied with an arm draped over his eyes.

"Not total silence."

"My quiet does."

"You're crabby this morning." She replied in a mockingly innocent tone, setting her cup on the coffee table. When he didn't reply she huffed lowly. She had gotten up pretty early and now she was bored. She leaned her head against the couch and waited to see how long it would take him to realize she was staring at him. After a moment, though, she realized he was nearly asleep again.

"Jesse you're supposed to be keeping me company!" She whined lowly, reaching out and flicking his ear.

"Ow-! Ruth _stop!_ "

She smirked as his eyes had flown open and he rubbed his now red ear before grabbing her wrist lightly and pushing her away.

"Go bother Henry."

"He doesn't react the way you do."

She started laughing when he huffed and turned to face the back of the couch so that his back was to her. "You really are crabby. I hear it gets worse over time, you'll be mean in your old age."

"If I am it's because _you_ made me that way."

She poked him in the side and in the back.

"Ruth."

"Ok, sorry."

Biting her lip, she reached up and tugged lightly at his hair.

"Stop!"

"Stop..." She mimicked in a higher pitched tone.

She grinned at the look on his face when he turned back around and finally gave up.

"I thought vacations were supposed to be relaxing." He groaned, sitting up.

"I'm very relaxed." She raised a brow while finally going back to her tea.

* * *

"She's gunna break an arm."

"You are determined to be grouchy this whole trip aren't you." Smokey looked toward his brother

"It was just an observation."

Ruth had failed in convincing her twin to go ice skating with her but it hadn't deterred her from going herself. It hadn't stopped snowing yet and Jesse stood shivering at the edge of the ice rink.

He'd been concerned over whether Ruth would be alright. Ice skating was strenuous, but the colder weather had made it easier on her weakened lungs and despite her pale complexion, her cheeks, nose and ears held a healthy blush and for a moment he could forget that there were times she'd get winded walking a flight of stairs.

"You're such a spoil sport." She pouted as she came to the wall of the rink.

"I prefer my wrists and ankles to remain unbroken. Please and thank you."

The winter breeze cut through the monstrous buildings. The industrial boom was alive and well and he'd never seen so much metal and concrete in his life. He'd been out of his element in Michigan nearly a year and a half ago and that city had nothing on New York. Jesse glanced up toward the sky, shoulders hunched up as he huffed warm air in to the scarf he wore in an attempt to warm his nose.

The flakes were getting bigger, which meant this snowfall wasn't ending any time soon.

He was somewhat surprised that Henry had even agreed, ice skating didn't seem his thing and both siblings had then badgered Jesse over his refusal to join them. If he didn't like the cold, what didn't they understand over his aversion to standing on _frozen water._

Ruth tilted her head as she continued to pout, reaching for his arm. "Come onnnn..."

"No, I'm not going." He took a hasty step away from the wall.

"I put up with an entire summer of you both being away most weekends, Jesse Aaron, and when you weren't away, the house was filled with dust and dirt!"

"I'll do whatever else you want, Ruth, but I'm not ice skating!"

He'd let his guard down, which had actually surprised Smokey because he'd started to notice the kid using the skills he'd honed on the track in everyday life. It was getting hard to sneak up on him.

"Oh, yes, you are."

He grabbed the back of Jesse's coat and pushed him on to the ice with them. The kid was finally growing out of that lanky youth stage, 'filling out' as their father used to call it, but Jesse would always have a smaller build than his older brother.

"Henry!"

He nearly had to duck when Jesse threw an arm out to catch his balance, but smirked and pushed him lightly. "Better learn quick."

"That was a little cruel, Henry." Ruth commented lightly as she stopped just out of reach. If Jesse fell she wasn't going down with him. "I always get my way, Jesse."

He only watched her with a sullen expression, his arms crossed and standing as still as possible. He'd been dragged out there but didn't even have skates on.

"Don't look at me like that." She teased. "You know, being the baby really spoiled you."

"I am not the baby, we're twins."

"But I'm older."

"That doesn't count."

"Ten minutes is ten minutes, Jesse Aaron. If you were older I'm sure it would count."

"It would." Smokey cut in.

"Momma always treated you like the baby anyway." She continued.

"She did not."

"Ohho, yes she did!" Ruth stopped abruptly and turned toward their older brother as she continued to tease. "Any time you didn't get what you wanted you'd make this face-"

"There!" Smokey pointed toward Jesse. "That's the face!"

"I am not making a face!"

"And she'd just cave!"

"So would dad."

"I seem to remember you getting just about everything you wanted, Ruth. Don't tell me you didn't." Jesse argued as he contemplated how to get back to the wall in one piece.

"That's because I'm the only girl."

He rolled his eyes, walking carefully back and stopping abruptly any time one of his siblings came near.

"Look uncomfortable, Jesse." Smokey grinned, he might not have liked the cold as much as their sister but he could tolerate it. "This ain't one of your dirt tracks."

"Yeah, noticed that."

Both of his siblings started laughing when he nearly lost his balance and was forced to throw his arms up to catch himself. He finally made it to the wall and steady ground. "Let's go ice skating, she said. It'll be fun she said-"

"You love to hear your own voice don't you."

Jesse glared at Smokey. "Someone has to make sense."

"Well it's certainly not you."

He huffed, mouth drawing in to a thin line as he sat heavily on the bench.

"Cool it, Hollywood. Was a joke."

He could tell Jesse didn't find it very funny and after a moment decided to leave him to sulk and went back to the ice.

He loved his brother, he really did but Ruth was right. As the youngest he'd gotten away with more than he probably should have growing up. Jesse was a good kid with a heart of gold but watch out when he decided he was going to be in a mood. It didn't happen often but he wasn't always the easy going kid the media painted him as. If he decided he was displeased with something he made sure it was known, and if his point hadn't been made or he was met with opposition, he'd become so passive aggressive it was nearly startling when compared to his usual temperament.

Smokey returned to the wall after a few laps and felt a little guilty over his inner musings when he came back to the bench. Jesse glanced up from his staring match with a spot somewhere out in the middle of the rink and looked at him questioningly.

The kid was frozen, the tan from summer had disappeared and his nose and ears were pink. His shoulders shook visibly as he shivered.

He was _miserable._

"You're really that cold."

"Mmhmm."

"Why are you out here then."

"Can't spend the whole trip stuck in a hotel room."

Smokey blinked, regarding him quietly as he was suddenly struck with realization.

They'd joked that this was Ruth's trip but he understood now that it really was. He was only there because Ruth had asked.

He knew both of them would do anything for their sister, walk to hell and back if she needed it but somehow the small gestures like this seemed more important. Ruth had wanted to go ice skating and had asked him to go with her. Jesse had drawn the line at actually getting on the ice but he was still there, as miserable as he was.

Smokey suddenly felt bad for his own criticism.

Ruth joined them after a moment and patted her gloved hands on the half wall. "I'd heard that Piston was going to be in the city during the off season to do some promoting."

"That man spends more money in travel than we see in a year." Smokey commented.

Jesse had heard something about Piston making the rounds up and down the coast, the man was intent on making sure this sport stayed on its feet. He had the distinct feeling it wasn't going to die off any time soon, though.

"Maybe he's here now." Ruth raised a brow.

"If he is I'm sure there'd be some big party somewhere." Jesse realized it had been a mistake to comment as soon as he'd said it. Ruth's eyes widened.

"We should find out!"

"How are you going to do that?"

"The fat cats aren't gunna want a bunch of kids from down south traipsing through their fancy parties." Smokey wasn't sure he liked where this was going either.

"Thank you." Jesse muttered.

He felt bad disappointing his sister but it was a hypothetical party to begin with, and even if it wasn't, he wasn't interested in seeing any more of Piston's pretentious son than he had to. The racing season was enough.

They'd make it up to her somehow.

* * *

"I can't take this." Ruth stood in the hotel room, holding the envelope and certificate that had been within.

"Why not?"

"It's too much, I can't-I won't."

Smokey rolled his eyes. He and Jesse both knew she was going to react this way. "It's a gift, Ruth-"

She shook her head and looked up at him. "But Macy's, Henry. _Macy's._ "

He and Jesse stood side by side with matching expressions of confusion. "Is that-" He hesitated. "Not what people-"

Jesse only shrugged his shoulders, he didn't know what her aversion was.

"That's too nice a-"

"Woah-" Jesse cut her off and herded her toward her room of the suite. "No, it's not _too nice_ or _too expensive._ "

"It's a belated Christmas gift."

"Right." Jesse nodded in agreement with Smokey and looked back toward his sister. The brothers had agreed that since they'd both gotten vehicles that summer, she deserved something herself.

"But I can't-"

"Yes you can." Smokey raised a brow, taking the envelope from her hand and looking it over. "Unless you want Hollywood and I to go use it and you get stuck with what you get."

She only hesitated a moment before snatching it back from him and disappearing in to her room.

Ruth was surprised they had let her go on her own, but it may have had something to so with the fact that the giant department store was so close to their hotel. She knew they weren't interested in following her around for an afternoon either. She wasn't going to put them through that.

"You brought that with you?" Smokey asked upon returning to the main area after seeing Ruth off.

Jesse glanced up from the tattered Piston Cup rule book. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I figured there'd be down time at some point."

"You know all the rules though."

He only nodded and picked up the notes he was taking. "We also have meetings in a week."

Smokey only nodded once and raised a brow.

"Words been getting around that there are some things Piston's kid wants to get pushed through."

"Ah..." He suddenly understood. "Preparing for battle then, huh."

"You could say that."

Smokey regarded his brother a moment as he went back to reading. He himself loved their careers, there was nothing else he'd rather be doing even though he'd scoffed at the idea a little over a year ago. His brother, though, lived and breathed racing. He didn't know where it had come from, but driving was in the kid's blood. He'd taken to the sport like a duck to water and Smokey didn't understand how or why.

He most likely never would.

Just the look on Jesse's face as he read through something, brows lowered and eyes intent as he flipped back a page and decided something must have been noteworthy, told Smokey everything he needed to know. To say Jesse Hudson was passionate about racing was an under statement.

"Don't think you ever worked this hard in school."

"Hmm?"

"School, you know the place with the books and the learning."

Jesse's brows lowered further. "I never failed anything. I did well in school..."

"Not saying you didn't, but I can't imagine what you could have gone to school for if you had applied yourself the way you are now."

"That's too much work."

"That's your problem. You're just lazy." He only smirked when Jesse rolled his eyes and flipped the page of the rule book.

Hours passed and he was forced to take the book away.

"You're falling asleep. Leave it be."

"I'm falling asleep because your sister felt the need to be up at six."

Spending a good part of the morning in the snow could take a toll as well.

Smokey would suggest he take a cat nap but he knew Jesse would refuse until Ruth returned.

"I wish mom and dad were here."

He looked over quickly to see Jesse looking across the room tiredly, looking back at him after a moment. "Yeah." He sighed and nodded. "Me too."

"Feel guilty for sayin' this but-" Jesse shook his head slowly. "I don't-I don't really remember much of him."

"That was twelve years ago. You and Ruth were pretty young."

What was he saying, _he'd_ been young as well. Had just turned thirteen a month before. All he even remembered were a few faint images and what he could vaguely piece together with some old photographs. The one thing he does remember clearly is his mother's reaction to two men in military uniform standing at the door. Everyone knew that meant only one thing.

A pair of eight year olds hiding on the back porch is the other thing he remembered clearly.

"You're startin' to look more and more like him." He finally said.

"Been hearing that a lot lately." Jesse replied. Every time he went in to town.

They sat for hours on the couch, reminiscing on childhood and how things had changed so much even in the last year, what had happened to kids they'd grown up with and family they hadn't heard from since their mother's funeral. Thomasville was changing right on with them. The old school was being torn down once the new one was finished. A few of the mines further south were closing up and the factory in Adamston would be opening soon.

They were surprised when Ruth returned and Jesse titled his head in fatigue when she was empty handed.

"How could you be gone so long and not-"

"They sent it here." She huffed, not used to these kinds of services. "It's all being brought up."

Jesse felt like a hick from the sticks again, because when there was a knock at the door and Ruth opened it, the bellhop refused their help and only asked where Ruth would like the boxes and bags to be put. He only raised a brow as the luggage cart was rolled through and smirked at his brother. "Guess it pays off that she's thrifty."


	14. Early 1952 and Bylaws

**January 1952**

Jesse would take standing back in Times Square over this circus, twenty degree weather and all. At least the people in Times Square had been smiling and celebrating the New Year.

They'd barely gotten home and reacclimated to _being_ home when the Hudson brothers found themselves in North Carolina, sitting in a large hotel conference room with other driving teams.

Smokey was leaned back with his arms crossed as he tilted his chair back on to two legs now and then, abruptly returning them to the floor whenever Jesse would reach out to push him over. Jesse slouched with his chin rested on one hand, flipping idly through the list of suggested regulations.

The page was covered in scribbles, some of those suggestions crossed out completely as drivers had decided and voted they didn't agree with them, others had been changed so much in their terminology that Jesse had been forced to cross them out with an aggravated sigh to rewrite them in a margin somewhere.

Tensions were high as the morning dragged on and it had finally gotten to the point that some had walked out in frustration, leading Piston and the few admins in attendance to call for a brief recess. Jesse glanced up toward the front of the room and barely held back an eye roll, one of the problems was sitting to Piston's right. Somehow Alex thought he should be sitting at the front table and not with the rest of the drivers, and Piston would never correct his kid in front of his peers.

"He's lucky he's on that side of the table." River commented. "Has to stick close to the old man to keep himself safe."

"He's got quite the list of enemies started..." Jesse commented, tossing the pen down and stretching his back over the back of the chair. "How long this supposed to last?"

"Till we're done."

He only looked up at River with a dull expression.

Lou reached out and pinched his cheek. "Didn't anyone ever tell you your face will stick that way?"

"Yes, but it's not true." He huffed while brushing her hand away. "And ow- you're as bad as my sister."

"Somehow I doubt it." She raised a brow. "And don't act like this is tough on you. It's racing and arguing, your two favorite things."

He'd grumbled something in response but when she didn't get an outright denial, she knew she was right.

* * *

It was probably the most involved Emily had ever been with Piston Cup. Luckily she knew how to write shorthand. She'd been asked to take the minute notes for the meeting and her shorthand was still more legible than anything Alex could have printed. Just observing and listening to the back and forth that morning made her feel like she was learning some of the driver's personalities better.

She had a few favorite drivers and she'd learned more through the previous season than she'd expected to. There were times she found herself explaining the ins and outs to her mother and once or twice she'd even corrected her brother. He would always challenge her on it, but their little tiffs never seemed to amount to anything. They both knew she was usually the one in the right.

Drivers and team owners were slowly returning to their seats and the meeting seemed to be ready to get started once more. She picked up the pen from the table and tapped it against her hand a few times as she waited for something to be said that was worth writing down. The only one speaking was her brother and she figured whatever Alex had to say wasn't worth recording. She could tell the majority of the other drivers felt the same way as she scanned the room, picking out those she recognized.

She had a soft spot for Sam Green, the poor thing tried as hard as the rest of them and she originally hadn't been sure if it was his car or just lack of natural talent that always had him behind the usual front runners. He was overwhelmingly friendly and she'd actually gotten the chance to speak to him recently during the off season. He'd been more than happy to answer any of her questions and she'd learned quite a bit from him. It lead her to believe he was just attached to a car that couldn't pull it against the rest of the field. He was so good-natured over the fact that he wasn't one of the more popular drivers she couldn't help but like him.

William Asher was another driver she kept up with but that might have been because he was the one to punch Alex in the face halfway through the previous season. That, and the black Ford Coupe he drove was pretty nice.

Jesse Hudson was the driver everyone followed. She'd yet to meet him, despite the fact that he was sitting right across the room and both of them were recognized names of the sport. Well, his more so than her's even. Looking about the room, she couldn't help but notice how many people she _didn't_ know.

Jesse had resumed his position of slouched disinterest and stared vacantly toward the front of the room. He wasn't exactly going to focus his attention back to this meeting until the senior Piston spoke and brought them back together.

He met the gaze of Piston's daughter briefly before rolling his eyes lazily in a silent question of _does he ever shut up?_

She only grinned faintly, shaking her head in answer before looking back down to the paper she was filling with notes.

The meeting seemed to finally come to order and Emily sat up straight beside her father. She bit her lip and tried to find where they were in the handouts, unable to catch up to what her father was saying. She hastily flipped to the next page to scan it quickly. Perfect, she had one job and she was going to end up ruining the transcripts. Finally seeing something that read vaguely familiar to what her father had just said, she breathed a low sigh and quickly put pen to paper. She had just caught up when the floor opened for discussion.

"Woah, hold on-"

All eyes fell on Jesse as he spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Hudson?"

"I understand a driver not winning if they don't finish all laps. It's a ridiculous notion to think otherwise, but the way this is worded means it must be the same car."

"And driver, yes."

"What happens if you find yourself without a car? Especially mid race?

There were a few groans from drivers here or there. They'd barely gotten anything passed with so many people weighing in on each motion brought to the table.

"You can't just start switching out vehicles on a whim." Someone in the back sighed.

"That's not what I'm saying." He replied, looking down at the paper in front of him and tapping the table with his finger. "I'm saying, what if your engine blows, is that it? What if any given team had a second car? Or why can't there be substitute drivers-"

"How often does that-"

"What if a driver falls ill, that's not their fault. Do they scratch and lose their entry fee? Why can't they have someone they trusted take over? Or a back up car should something-"

"There's not many here that can _afford_ a back up car, Hudson."

"Speak for yourself, _Piston_."

"Cool it there, Jesse..." Smokey warned in a tone only his brother could hear, glancing up toward the man flanked by his children. Jesse might have been addressing the younger, but they didn't need to get on the bad side of the kid's father.

"This is getting too complicated." A driver to their right muttered.

"Isn't this why we're here?" Jesse asked. "To have something in writing in case these situations occur."

"He's right..."

Edward Piston looked to his left and regarded his daughter in surprise. She hadn't said it loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear, but he certainly had. She glanced up at him once before directing her attention back to the drivers.

Alex leaned back in his chair. "So you what, decide you want to trade in your wasp-"

Smokey noted silently how Jesse's knuckles whitened at the insult, holding on to the edge of the table.

"If my _Hornet_ were suddenly not track worthy, but I was fit to race and had another car shouldn't I still be permitted to do so?"

"I don't see why not." Junior finally spoke up. Most of these regulations didn't mean much to him but this one was important.

"Couldn't it just fall under the team number?" Louise added. "We're all registered to a number for a reason."

"Probably the only way you could do it." Jesse muttered in response as the others in the room took the idea and ran with it.

Emily had stopped note taking, there were too many speaking at once for her to keep track. She waited until her father got the room under control. He leaned toward her but spoke loud enough for the room to hear. "Amend this paragraph, my dear. It should state that while drivers who don't complete all laps are ranked based upon their finished placings, teams are permitted the use of a different vehicle _or_ driver as long as the registered number is clearly visible."

The rest of the afternoon progressed much in the same way. Very few regulations were passed without the proceedings coming to an abrupt halt as any number of drivers would begin to debate over the fairness of a given rule.

Alexander was forcefully pushing for a few in particular, and Emily had abandoned her notes for a third time as the room heated up with tense discussion once more.

"I'm just saying that speed restrictions might come in to account at some point."

"What sense does that make, Alex?" Will Asher spoke from the left side of the room. "We're _racing_. Speed is a given."

"But how fast is too fast?"

"Is he serious?" Junior huffed lowly and crossed his arms, sitting behind the Hudson brothers.

"What are you getting at?" Will asked.

In answer, Alex gestured across the room to Jesse, turning his attention toward him. "Hudson, what's the fastest you've reached?"

Jesse only eyed him knowingly from his seat, arms crossed and expression unreadable. "I dunno, I've never paid much attention."

There were a few scoffs or muttered comments.

"Somehow I doubt that." Alex muttered before continuing. "But in any case, let's say Hudson's car tops out at one-thirty, one-forty-"

He didn't miss the look between the members of the Hornet team, he knew as well as they did that it could move faster.

"But Asher's only reaches one-fifteen? How is that fair?"

"He does actually have a point..." Lou muttered.

"Unfortunately..." Jesse replied while he distractedly filled in the Piston logo on his paper.

It was decided that, while it would take some time, there would be dates set that drivers would bring their vehicles to their local tracks to be clocked for speed. Piston Cup administrators would then decide on a range that would meet qualifications.

"I can't believe I have to modify the Hornet to be _slower-_ " Jesse groaned lowly and received a hearty pat on the back from his brother.

"Don't worry about it. You'll just have to beat him at his own game."

"I intend to."

The very last regulations had very little debate, though Jesse felt they seemed rather open to interpretation or took the power away from individuals in question. He'd been out voted in both, leaving him a little irritable when the meeting finally came to a close and drivers were dismissed.

 _Any team under consideration for the Piston Cup award at the end of the season must complete all races, unless said team scratches from the field well enough in advance or is not entered in the given race they did not attend._

 _If a driver and/or team, or substitute driver's, capacity within the sport should come in to question, a decision will be made by an appointed board of Piston Cup officials. The board will interview the individual/s in question to decide if said driver and/or team will remain sanctioned within Piston Cup._


	15. Becoming a Household Name

Ruth had struggled for a few weeks upon their return from New York. The colder weather had made it so much easier on her breathing that she felt absolutely useless when she was forced to become nearly sedentary in the house. Five times in two months she'd made Jesse sit and do the old breathing exercise trick with her. She knew there was no way he'd ever tell her no, but she felt like she needed to find another solution. Once the racing season started he'd be away so much she wouldn't be able to depend solely on him.

"If I have to scratch a race, I'll scratch a race." He'd shrugged a shoulder but she could tell he was already preparing a counter remark for whatever she was going to reply with.

"You can't scratch a race just because of me-" She'd leaned against the kitchen counter and looked up at him. She'd noted with faint surprise just how different he looked from when he'd left for Michigan less than two years ago. A little broader shouldered, surprisingly a little taller, she thought he'd stopped growing years ago. While his looks hadn't changed that much, his features had matured and he no longer fit the label of _punk kid_ that Henry used to tag on him. Where had she been?

"Yes I can." He glanced up at her sidelong while flipping through whatever mail they'd gotten that morning. "Or if this is going to become a problem I'll get someone to-"

"I am not sitting around all day with a _babysitter!_ "

They'd gone over this before, he'd mentioned that he'd read somewhere about medically trained individuals that could help clients with illnesses like her own. She was adamantly against it. She didn't want some person in her house doing things she was perfectly capable of herself. Jesse wasn't the only member of the Hudson family who could be stubborn.

"Well then what do you want, Ruth Anne?" He slapped the mail on the counter and turned to look at her fully, one hand braced on his side and the other on the counter. "Henry and I could be gone days at a time this year. They're adding new locations and if we want to stick with Piston Cup we have to race on certified tracks. What happens if we're gone for three days and you can't breathe?"

"I'd call Joan."

"What if you can't make it to the phone?"

"I'd call her before it got that serious."

She could tell he wasn't buying it. As much as he'd love to stay and hash it out, he needed to be at Thomasville Speedway before ten to run his laps and get an official high speed documented for the Hornet. She watched him gather his things and continued with her argument, following him toward the screen door to the back porch. "I will figure something out. I don't need some stranger coming in to the house and doing _my_ work. You can't waste your money on-"

He'd pushed the screen door open but stopped abruptly and turned to face her, letting it clatter against his shoulder as he stood partially in the doorway. His helmet tucked under one arm, he pointed a finger at her in frustration. She'd never seen or heard him like this, at least toward her.

"I will waste my money on whatever it takes to make sure you're taken care of. So stop arguing with me."

She frowned, ready to continue but he raised both brows in challenge and she relented. "Yeah, fine. Ok."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Ok."

"Just ok?"

She nodded, watching his reaction.

He only sighed lowly and looked her over for any sign of real distress. He'd gotten fairly good at calling her bluffs over the years.

"Alright." He finally conceded. "I'll see you in a few hours..."

She closed the door with a muttered goodbye before going straight for her room. She sat on the end of her bed and looked across to the large mirror over her dresser and stared at her own reflection.

She was tired and irritated over the fact that soon she would be left home alone while the rest of her small family would begin traveling consistently once more. Conditions had to be nearly perfect for her to attend a race, humidity and the dust just wouldn't allow her to breathe, let alone even breathe comfortably.

Looking over her reflection she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. He'd looked so grown up just then and she still looked like a kid.

Something needed to change, she just didn't know where to start.

* * *

"What are all these people doing here."

Smokey glanced at the people lining the outside wall watching the track. Off season was usually quiet but the track was bustling with Piston officials and curious onlookers. "Word got around that the local drivers were coming down to get their cars recorded."

He roughed up his brother and shoved him lightly. "They knew The Fabulous Hudson Hornet would be here."

Jesse huffed and swung the helmet in his hand out of boredom as he waited his turn, leaning against the inside wall.

"You knew this came with the territory."

"Yeah, I did." He smirked.

Smokey wasn't that surprised to see an official cross the track as Nash and Scott were trading places to take their turns.

"Hey, Jesse. Henry."

The brothers greeted Moore before looking back out toward the track.

"What's up, Joe." Jesse asked, watching the dust fly behind the Ambassador.

"Well." Joe gestured back toward the onlookers. "I've only been asked about a dozen times if you were sticking around after your run."

"What?" He finally looked away from the track and toward Joe.

"Lot of people over there interested in meeting you."

"Really?"

"Of course they are." Joe huffed in faint amusement. " _J_ _esse Hudson_ is the leading name of Piston Cup. They want to meet you."

Smokey couldn't help but smirk at the startled expression on his brother's face. Jesse knew he was popular but didn't know how to react to celebrity status, and it was only going to grow from there.

"You're gunna want this." Joe commented, holding out a black, felt tip, pen.

Smokey grinned and shoved his brother's shoulder once Joe had left.

"Looks like you've made it, Hollywood."

* * *

A few days after the cars had made their runs Emily was waiting impatiently for the last officials to call in with the numbers. She hadn't exactly expected to suddenly become a secretary but she wasn't complaining either. She'd wanted to be involved and she was.

"Who are we waiting to hear from?"

She glanced at the list of tracks before looking up toward her father. "South Carolina, Georgia and Florida."

Piston sat behind the mahogany desk, lighting the cigar he held and pointing toward Alexander. "You've made a lot of your peers unhappy through this whole charade, you realize that."

"But doesn't it make sense?" Alex stood beside his sister. "Some of those cars are just _too_ fast."

"By _some_ I'm sure you mean _one_." Piston corrected. "You might fool everyone else, boy, but you don't fool me."

Alex only put his hands in his pockets and glanced between his father and sister moodily.

"Do we have his run in yet."

"No." Emily shook her head. "Still waiting to hear from Mr. Moore."

She watched quietly as he reached for the phone and crossed her arms before going to sit on the maroon sofa across from his desk. She glanced to the side and picked up the paper at the sight of the track images in the front article.

An image of Jesse Hudson speaking to race fans was flanked by an article on the upcoming 1952 race season. She scanned the article before looking through the images and reading the captions. She raised a brow. "One fifty-four."

"What?"

"It says here in the article that Jesse Hudson's, Hudson Hornet, reached a top speed of one hundred and fifty-four miles an hour Friday afternoon in Thomasville, Georgia."

"Let me see that." Alex huffed, attempting to rip the paper from her hands.

"Use your manners, Alexander. We're not uncivilized here." She huffed, pulling the paper closer to herself.

Piston set the phone aside, looking toward his children as he grumbled. "I can't believe it made it to the paper before we were notified. May I see that, my dear?"

Emily continued to hold it out of her brother's reach, giving him a sour look as she stood and passed the folded paper to her father.

"No wonder he was winning so much." Alex muttered. "I don't think anyone else was reaching one thirty-five."

"It's more than speed that wins races." Piston glanced up from the paper toward his son once before returning his attention to the article.

"Emily and I think he cheats."

"When did I _ever_ say such a thing?"

Alex looked at her as if she were turning on him. "At the last race last season."

"No." She shook her head. "You are not dragging me in to this. _You_ said you thought he cheated and I said he's just a good driver. I never agreed with you."

"A single person can't be _that_ good." He complained.

Emily felt like she was listening to a broken record.

"Don't you agree, though, father?" He finally looked toward Piston. "That it's a little strange that a single driver can be that much better than everyone else?"

Piston removed his reading glasses and set them aside. "I don't believe so, no."

"What?"

Emily couldn't help but look between the two in interest. Maybe her brother would finally knock it off if their father intervened.

"There's a natural talent in Hudson that you can only be born with." He held his hand up when Alex began to protest. "I don't doubt that _all_ of you out there have natural talent, but there are some that exceed the others. You're a talented driver as well Alexander."

Emily forced back an eye roll at how her brother's chest puffed up at that.

"But you don't apply yourself."

"What?"

"How often do you go for practice runs?"

"Well, not very-"

"You mean, never. I've never seen you work on your own vehicle either." He could tell his son didn't like what he was saying but continued anyway. "And _that_ is what separates you. Every single time I made my rounds and passed through Georgia before the season started that kid was on the track." He pointed to the article and photograph of Jesse Hudson. "I've never seen someone as dedicated to the craft as he is. If you applied yourself Alexander we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Emily retreated from the office, realizing this wasn't exactly a conversation that involved her anymore and picked up the phone outside the office door as it began to ring. She grinned and took on a chipper, professional, tone as she responded.

"Oh, Mr. Moore. We've been expecting to hear from you."


	16. Jail Time

Ten years old wasn't nearly old enough to be worrying the way he had been lately. His stomach was twisted in knots as he lingered in the dimly lit hallway, twirling the flower he'd picked on the way home from seeing the day old calf down at Rhodes' farm. He stared at the yellow petals of the daisy while trying to gain the courage to open the door he stood in front of.

"Jesse."

He looked up quickly to see Henry at the end of the hall, holding his hand out expectantly for his younger brother to take.

Jesse sniffed faintly, muttering lowly. "I wanted to give this to Momma."

"We'll put it in a vase downstairs for Momma." Henry replied softly. He may have just turned sixteen but was beyond his years when it came to dealing with the twins.

When Jesse didn't move from his spot in the hallway, Henry gestured with the hand he still held out. "Leave Momma be for today."

Two years to the day from when their father had passed. Sarah had forced herself through the morning routines, put a smile on for the sake of her children as she sent them off in different directions after the table was cleared of the remains of breakfast. Henry was capable of keeping himself occupied by now, Ruth had asked to go to a friend's house and Jesse had originally planned to meet some of the other boys down at Hangman's Bluff, but after an hour of skipping rocks and waiting around he realized none of the others must have had permission to go.

So he stood in the hallway holding a flower that was already beginning to wilt.

"C'mon." Henry said again, finally coaxing his brother away from the door to find something to do outside.

Fourteen and he was sick and tired of school, kicking at rocks at the end of the lane as he and Ruth waited for the bus. "Henry's already got a job and he doesn't use anything he was taught in school."

Ruth had only swung her bag in front of her, letting it hit against her knee as it stopped and reached up to mess with the end of her braid. "He does too, he has to read, write, and do math-"

"We already know all that stuff."

She only looked at him and shrugged.

Sixteen and he was found lingering in the hallway more often than not. Whatever this illness was that had befallen half the family took up most of the boys' time. Jesse was constantly checking in on either his mother or Ruth, crossing the hall from one room to the other.

Doc Barnhart had told him it didn't seem contagious. So how did two family members have the same thing?

Their mother was in worse condition than Ruth and it had been explained to him that there were a number of factors that could contribute to that. Ruth was younger, her lungs were likely stronger. Their mother had been suffering failing health the last few years, she wasn't old by any means but her body was failing. Ever since their father had died she had slowly declined.

Henry would stay at the house during the day while Jesse finished his last year of school. Ruth had a tutor that came three times a week so Jesse was left waiting for the bus alone. The boys would switch places as soon as Jesse returned home, Henry would head straight to the garage to get as much work done as he could before starting again the next morning.

He'd find Jesse on the back porch in the morning more often than not, looking exhausted and barely ready to go to school.

"Few more weeks and you're done." He'd remind him. "Keep going."

Jesse would only nod and grab his things, offering a muttered goodbye as he left to head down the lane.

It was having to listen to his mother and Ruth fight to breathe that kept him up, Barnhart's medicine only seemed to quiet the coughing somewhat. Three weeks left to his entire school career and for some reason they still felt like sending him home with massive amounts of school work.

Not really, but it felt like that when he wasn't able to concentrate on anything other than the coughing fits he could hear upstairs.

"Jesse, wake up."

"I am awake." He muttered irritably, staring at the math in front of him.

"Wake up!" Ruth coughed and shook his shoulder.

Jesse's eyes shot open, the dream fading quickly at the sound of his sister's very real struggle to breathe as she fought to wake him. It had been a rough race that Sunday afternoon, he'd barely been home an hour before passing out for the evening.

"Wake up-" She choked out before turning her face away and coughing roughly.

He sat up quickly, eyes wide as she got up from sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Do we need to go to Jefferson-"

She shook her head. "Not yet, just-"

"Stop talking."

The exercise seemed to work, but he didn't like how she seemed to have to work harder than usual.

"Maybe we should move up north." He muttered, sitting cross legged on the bed.

"You'd be miserable."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Least you'd be able to breathe..."

Ruth only sighed. "Cold showers seemed to work in the past, I'm gunna try that."

Jesse only stared at her moodily.

"Stop looking at me like that, go back to bed."

"How am I supposed to sleep-"

"Close your eyes." She smirked and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "You have the rest of the afternoon to sleep."

"Mmm, no." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Meeting up with the others later."

* * *

"You know this isn't that funny."

Junior glared through the metal bars, arms draped over the cross bar as the two on the other side were lost to a fit of side splitting laughter. Jesse and River fought to keep from being too loud, gasping for air as they tried to be quiet, afraid the officer on duty would come back to investigate. Every time one of them went to speak, the whole thing would start all over again.

"You know if you were in here I wouldn't be laughing at you."

"Yes-yes you would-!" River countered, unable to breathe as he held Jesse's arm to steady himself.

"This isn't funny!" Junior hissed.

Jesse coughed, trying to compose himself. "How did this happen?"

"It was too dark. I crossed county lines."

The two on the outside of the bars continued laughing.

Jesse finally stood up straight, impersonating an old mobster film. "You let them coppers catch ya, eh?"

"Shut up, Hudson! You'd be in here too if they'd found shine on you."

"Lucky for me there wasn't any." He raised a brow.

"What?"

"Ditched it in the mine at the bottom of the ravine."

"Are you serious!" Junior stood up straighter even as River continued to laugh. "I was already paid for that!"

"Shh!" Jesse looked out the long hallway toward the front desk. "We'll go back for it, calm down." He wrapped a knuckle against the metal bars with a smirk. "We'll make sure to stay out of the dry counties too."

Junior mimicked him sarcastically and rolled his eyes before becoming serious. "How you gunna get me out of here?"

"I didn't know we were supposed to."

Junior only gave them a deadpan look.

"What are we supposed to do?" River asked. "They found it on you, we can't argue that."

"They'll probably just keep you overnight..." Jesse trailed off at the look on Junior's face. "Right?"

"I have kind of a long lasting rapport with the officers of Willmington county..."

Both Jesse and River sighed and finally became serious.

"We'll talk to the guy on duty, I'm sure we'll figure something out." River commented.

Junior only gestured in that direction, not expecting much.

As the two left the wing of cells, Jesse muttered lowly to the other. "What's this _something_ you're talking about?"

"I dunno. I figured you'd have something fancy up your sleeve."

"Great..." He huffed as they left the corridor and returned to the main part of the building. He glanced once toward the desk where the officer was doing paperwork listening to the radio, and nodded to River.

Jesse leaned against the counter, only half listening as the officer was answering River's questions of how long Junior would be detained or what exactly to expect. It was obvious that it wasn't _coffee_ in the mug Jesse could just see in to.

He cut the man off mid sentence. "You drinkin' shine?"

"Of course not, I'm on duty."

River stopped short and snagged the cup before the officer could stop him and Jesse raised a brow.

"Sure smells like shine."

"Yes it does. Funny, since our pal back there was brought in for crossing county lines with it-"

"I wouldn't try for blackmail, son." The officer warned Jesse. "That would end badly for you."

"No sir, no blackmail." He shook his head and tapped the counter a few times. "I'm just thinking the sheriff of Willmington would not appreciate knowing his deputy was taking evidence. You can't imprison someone for running shine in a dry county if there isn't any."

"We've been after that kid for ages, it's not happening."

"Alright." Jesse shrugged and both racers turned away from the counter.

River spoke loud enough for the man to hear. "Hope the sheriff is lenient on his men drinking on the job, especially in a dry county."

* * *

Lou and Henry were there within an hour. Just the look on his brother's face as they came down the corridor had Jesse cringing.

"Four cells in Willmington's county prison and _three_ of them are filled with you lot!" Henry hissed lowly.

"They could've saved space and put us in one-"

"Shut up." He pointed a finger at Jesse. "Do you know what a headache you've caused. Blackmail of an officer, Jesse. _Really?_ "

"It's not blackmail if it's true."

Smokey set his jaw and shifted his weight in frustration. It was surreal and frightening to see his brother standing on the opposite side of prison bars. It didn't matter if he'd really done anything wrong or not. "You are messing with people more powerful than you. Smart remarks and careful wordplay aren't going to get you as far here."

Ruth was going to panic, he needed to get this sorted out before she started wondering where everyone was. He glanced at his watch in the dim lighting. Ten-thirty already. It'd be after midnight before they got home, if he was even leaving with Jesse that was. On that thought he looked back up at his brother. "You use your call?"

"No, River called Lou." He gestured toward her, noticing she didn't look too pleased with them either. He only half waved from where he stood with an apologetic smile.

"You've really done it this time, Hollywood." Smokey sighed.

"I haven't done anything." He huffed, looking down the row toward the others who all looked back. "River and I were only pointing out the obvious."

"To a cop that's already shady." Lou muttered lowly. "He could make this difficult for all of you, especially if it gets back to-"

"This has nothing to do with Piston Cup." Junior stopped her, he'd already been thinking about it.

Smokey turned his attention back to his brother, one arm rested on the metal bar between them. "You are going to use your phone call."

Jesse regarded him with lowered brows. "Ok?"

"And you are going to call your sister."

He could tell he had the kid's attention then.

"Henry-"

"No. You are going to call Ruth and explain to her why she probably won't see you for a few days."

"She's already-"

"She'll be worse off if she doesn't know what's happened to you, and if I'm the one to tell her, she'll panic."

Jesse knew he was right and Henry was surprised to see him glance uncertainly toward the end of the hall before finally muttering lowly. "Could you let 'im know I'd like to make a call..."

* * *

"You're where-?" Ruth stood in the kitchen with a hand to her mouth, staring across the room and out the darkened windows.

"Um...Willmington-" He hesitated and winced before continuing. "Prison..."

"For _what?_ " He could hear panic already creeping in to her tone.

"Trying to-" She didn't let him finish.

"You're in _prison?_ Jesse this is- How could-?"

"I didn't do anything wrong-" He gripped the phone tightly and leaned his shoulder against the wall. "I don't have a lot of time. Listen, it's gunna be fine. It's just a misunderstanding-"

"That put you in prison."

"Little Dipper relax. I'm ok."

"How can I know that?"

He sighed lowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Would I lie to you?"

She hesitated, frowning before she finally replied, looking like a petulant child even though she had no audience. "No..."

"Henry'll be out to the house, depending on what happens later I will be too. Just...don't panic alright?"

"Alright." She replied quietly.

Jesse bit his thumbnail and glanced down to inspect it to realize it was bleeding. He hated the uncertainty in her replies.

"I'll talk to you later. Just get some sleep."

"Goodnight."

"Night, Ruth..."

He hung up the phone and stared at it a moment, feeling somehow like he'd let her down.

* * *

Sitting back in the third cell he huffed and leaned back against the wall, knowing his brother and Louise were in the main area trying to get everything sorted out.

"So-"

Jesse glanced up after the momentary pause in Junior's sarcastic comment.

"What was that about staying in dry counties and not getting caught?"

"Shut up, Moon."

* * *

 **AN: I love writing for this story.**


	17. Friends in High Places

"Well boys!"

All three Piston drivers looked toward the end of the hall, but by the end of their fourth day sitting in Willmington County Prison they'd lost any real interest in anything the men in charge had to say. Willmington apparently never saw much action because the officers they'd been unfortunate enough in dealing with felt the need to treat this like the state pen. Three kids under the age of twenty-five, being held for running shine, or because they didn't know when to shut their mouths when facing a couple cops who felt they needed _to learn a lesson,_ weren't exactly the types to need checked on first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening.

The sheriff's deputy and lieutenant seemed to find themselves to be more important than they really were.

Junior had wanted to reach through the bars and strangle River by their second afternoon stuck there. If he didn't stop making comments on how out of shape the lieutenant was they would never get out of there. Jesse had even fallen silent for the most part, though to Junior's dismay he still threw in a few jabs or smart remarks depending on how he was feeling when the lieutenant decided to go through.

The only reason they were still stuck there, Smokey had explained in no uncertain terms, was because the sheriff was on vacation and didn't feel their detainment a pressing enough matter to return home for.

"If you're not out of here by Friday morning I'm going to have to scratch." He'd explained. "We don't back out of the race early enough, you can kiss that Cup goodbye."

"You could always drive."

"No, I'm not a driver, Jesse. I'm a crew chief..."

Jesse had only nodded and muttered a quick agreement. He hadn't really expected him to like that idea.

He hadn't spoken to Ruth since he'd called, and his brother wasn't exactly giving him updates on how she was. He was pretty sure that was on purpose but he supposed if there was an emergency or something he needed to be made aware of he would know by now. So he tried to continually tell himself that no news was good news.

Didn't get him to relax much though.

Jesse was dragged from his thoughts as the officer continued to speak as he approached from the end of the corridor. It was the deputy that day. All three of the boys stood slowly in unison, because if they didn't, it somehow was a slight on the man's authority.

"-you have to realize boys, there's nothing I can do about this. I'm only doin' my job you see."

His tone was exaggerated and grated on Jesse's already frayed nerves. No one would tell them when the sheriff _would_ return and they were creeping closer and closer to Sunday.

"Calling it your job don't make it right, boss."

The man gave him a hard look as he stopped in front of him.

"You really do have a mouth on you don't you?"

"So I've been told."

The man turned toward the other two and walked back up the hallway slowly. Jesse couldn't help but roll his eyes at the fact that the man still wore his hat and sunglasses inside. It wasn't exactly very bright back where they were, the man was apparently going for a chain gang warden look.

"What we've got here is failure to communicate."

"It's not communication, you're just taking this too seriously." Jesse muttered to himself.

"-what you three don't seem to _understand_ is that you're not in charge around here. You might be the bees knees outside of here-"

All three had a hard time keeping a straight face at that one.

"But you're not _outside_ of here, are you?"

He stopped in front of Jesse once more. "Because despite what you might think, _I know_ who you all are." The man grinned when Jesse's expression sobered. "That's right hot shot, maybe you shouldn't have brought that fancy car right up to our doors to help your friend here."

He tapped the bars with a knuckle before leaving them alone once more, commenting once before closing the door. "Sure hope Mr. Piston is an understanding fellow."

There was an uncomfortable silence that fell over the group afterwards until Jesse kicked the bench against the back wall and it slid to the side.

* * *

"They can't do this, Henry."

"We aren't exactly in a position to make demands." He replied, glancing toward Ruth before running a hand through his hair in frustration. They stood together around the back of the house, the sun warm as the breeze moved through the newly bloomed trees. They'd brought the Hornet home two days ago, Ruth following in the truck as Henry had driven it back. If he didn't know better, he'd say the car had been sluggish. They'd have to give it a good once over.

"Is he okay? Are they-?"

"He's fightin' mad, I won't kid you, but-" He shrugged. "-again, not much I can do."

Ruth looked over the Hornet and wondered if it would be seeing the race Sunday, if it didn't it would be the first race it ever sat out of since Jesse had started. Something didn't feel right about it.

"There's got to be something..."

* * *

Emily turned down the radio on the desk she'd been given and reached for the phone as it rang. She held it against her shoulder as she looked over a few forms to see if they _really_ needed to reach her father's desk. Her attention was only partially on the call as she spoke. Her brows lowered when she really took a moment to read over the requests to withdraw from Sunday's race.

"Mr. Piston's office."

 _Racing Team_ #34 Track Racer.

 _Race Date_ June 12th, 1952.

She flipped to the next one and tilted her head.

 _Racing Team_ #11 Ford Coupe

 _Race Date_ June 12th, 1952.

She quickly glanced at the last one.

 _Racing Team_ #51 Hudson Hornet.

 _Race Date_ June 12th, 1952.

The box beside _Withdraw_ was checked on all three forms but there was no explanation given in the corresponding lines. Something wasn't right. That was the majority of the group that all stayed together...

She blinked and realized she'd left the person on the phone hanging.

"Oh, I apologize-..." Emily paused and set the papers aside. "He's busy at the moment, but I can take a message." She hesitated briefly before changing her mind. "Actually, just a moment and I'll transfer you..."

She put the phone on hold and got up from the desk quickly. Without knocking on her father's door, she pushed it open and leaned in to the room.

"Daddy-"

She could tell he wasn't exactly free and that a phone call could tie him up for some time. He didn't look up from the heavy black volumes in front of him. "What is it, my dear?"

"There's a call on line-"

"I'm afraid you'll have to take a message."

"It sounded fairly urgent."

He finally looked up and removed his reading glasses with a sigh. "Did they say what it concerned?"

Emily shook her head. "No, but she seemed fairly distressed."

Piston reached across the record book and picked up the phone, commenting before putting it to his ear. "Well we can't leave a lady upset, can we."

* * *

Jesse didn't move from where he was lying on the cot when he heard the door open once again. Staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, he did wonder why they were being visited so early in the day, though.

"Well, you got some friends in high places, and it just so happens that I'm not above bribery."

"Surprise, surprise."

Jesse couldn't help but grin at River's muttered response, he laughed at Junior's reaction.

"For crying out loud, Scott. Shut up."

"It was just an observation."

"Well you two and your _observations_ have made our stay at Willmington's finest absolutely unbearable. So again, River. _Shut up._ "

"Someone's getting testy." Jesse added.

" _Hudson-!_ "

They'd nearly forgotten the officer's presence until he cut in on the impending argument. " _Boys._ "

The corridor fell silent finally and the man grabbed the large ring of keys from his belt.

"That's it? We're just walking?" River asked in confusion.

"Don't question the man, Scott." Jesse ground out lowly as the man stood in front of Junior's cell.

There was no specific explanation given, and all three found themselves standing uncertainly outside the main doors. Jesse was praying Henry had come for the Hornet and the men of WIllmington County hadn't decided it looked better somewhere else. He sat on the bench in front of the parking lot with a sour look, bouncing his knee in agitation as they waited for Nash. She'd told Junior it could be awhile though, and that maybe they should call Smokey.

"No." Jesse had turned the idea down immediately. "He's been out here enough, he doesn't need to make a trip all the way over here again."

The other two had glanced at each other in faint surprise before River finally shrugged.

They were still sitting there waiting as the shift changed and the deputy was leaving for the afternoon. He tipped his hat and commented to Junior. "Gotta say, though, son, quality product you got there. Might just have to buy it off you next time."

Jesse and River were forced to grab an arm each before Junior was thrown back in the block for hitting an officer.

* * *

Ruth glanced up from her reading at the sight of headlights coming through the living room windows. She stood slowly and hesitated, setting her book down and calling up the stairs to Henry. She'd been on edge since Jesse had called home and wasn't keen on answering the door. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the back door open and she hesitated to look around the doorway in to the kitchen. Her eyes grew wide when she finally did work up the courage to, at the sight of her physically and mentally exhausted twin as he stood just inside the kitchen. Ruth rushed through the room and threw her arms around him, immediately beginning to cry.

"Jesse! Are you ok?" She took a step back and looked him over for any sign of injury. "What happened? How did you-?" She couldn't complete a thought as she hugged him again before taking a step back once more and drying her eyes. Jesse was startled when her demeanor shifted quickly and she slapped his arm, eyes hard.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Jesse Hudson? I was beginning to forget what you even look like."

"A mirror can help with that." He offered an exhausted and lopsided grin as he went to pass her and walk in to the house. She waited half a second before reaching out quickly and grabbing him by the ear, nearly laughing aloud when he jerked back in pained surprise.

"Ow! Ruth let go!"

It was the strangest scene Smokey had ever walked in to. He stood in the doorway, making sure to stay well out of the way even as he tried to understand how Jesse had even gotten there, and why they hadn't been told the boys were being released.

Ruth might have been smaller in stature than her younger brother but she had no problem marching across the kitchen and telling him to _take a seat._

He looked up at her crossly from his usual spot at the table while rubbing his ear with the heel of his hand. "I'm not a child."

"Well you certainly haven't proven otherwise. Four days, Jesse Aaron! Whatever you did they thought was worth four days! You have no idea what I've had to do to make sure you're safe!"

Neither of the brothers understood her last comment, but were both too apprehensive to ask her to clarify. You didn't cross Ruth Hudson when she was upset.

"At least they stopped using the term _blackmail._ " Smokey redirected and commented lightly from where he'd stepped around to the counter

"Blackmail?"

"It was _not blackmail_!" Jesse countered with a harsh look toward his brother.

"No, you're right. How did they phrase it finally." Smokey looked up toward the ceiling as if trying to remember. "Oh, yeah. Mouthing off to officers-"

"He was drinking _shine_ _on duty_ in a dry county-"

"Stop." Ruth cut in with finality. She pointed toward her twin. "I don't care what was going on or what your intentions were. If they'd decided to hold you longer you could have missed the race. You could have been penalized?"

He only watched her a moment, setting his jaw and looking away briefly before looking back toward the middle of the kitchen table vacantly. He couldn't argue that, she was right to an extent. He might not have been penalized but there would have been consequences somewhere. Even if they were indirect.

"You worked too hard for all this to just throw it all away over something stupid. Mouthing off to an officer? Mom and Daddy taught us better-"

"Alright, Ruth. I get it." He finally looked up toward her again. He'd spent the last four days beating himself up over it, he'd had enough.

"I hope so." She was relieved to see him home, but she was not happy with him.

She decided to call it a night, only offering Jesse a muttered goodnight before turning to Smokey and doing the same. Without another word to either of them she took her book and disappeared up the stairs.

Smokey wasn't exactly thrilled either, but he sympathized with the chastised look on his brother's face. He set his coffee on the table and pulled the chair out across from Jesse.

"Now, you're going to explain to me how it is that you just walked through the door this evening and didn't feel the need to let us know what was going on."

"Henry-"

"You've got one sibling fed up with you. I advise not to make it two."

He nearly laughed at the defeated look on his brother's face as Jesse huffed and weighed his options. When he finally did explain that he didn't call because he _knew_ Smokey would have driven all the way back out to Willmington County, he eased off a little.

"You've done enough already. Since they were calling Lou anyway I figured you didn't need to be burdened anymore."

Smokey could only shake his head as he got up from the table and ditched the rest of his cold coffee down the drain. They had a lot of work to do on the Hornet if it was going to run Sunday. If they got the paperwork rescinded that was.

He'd also like an actual full night's sleep now that the worst of this was over.

"Don't worry about Ruth, she's just been worried." He patted his brother's shoulder when his expression fell. "You're a good kid, Jesse. Your logic, sometimes, is just absolutely ridiculous."

* * *

 **AN: Some of the lines in the prison scene at the beginning are from the movie Cool Hand Luke.**


	18. Tough Sport

Emily had never felt more alienated in all of her eighteen years.

Nothing had changed, nothing that she could pinpoint anyway. She just felt like she no longer fit the role she was expected to play anymore.

Growing up, she had been incredibly close with Alex and had followed his lead in everything the two did. She trusted that all kids grew up the same way. In the winters, all American families vacationed in Miami, Malibu, or in the summer, The Hamptons. When you decided to visit family clear across the country you didn't need to plan ahead, you just bought a ticket and went. All schools were private and it was just expected that you appear at your brother's sporting events when playing the other large rival schools.

She didn't even know public transportation existed until she was a teenager.

Then she'd attended her very first race and everything she thought she knew of the world had been thrown out the window.

Sitting up in her family's personal box, she stared down at the track without really taking any of it in as she thought back to the first time she'd shown up track side.

It was nothing like the film reels she'd dug out of the boxes her father kept. Even when she'd been at home watching footage she felt like it was somehow still a _high society_ sport. It didn't matter that it was a dirt track, she'd seen Alex deal with worse conditions at times when he was still involved with rugby or polo.

It was a totally different world and she was still learning the ropes. She'd never felt more sheltered or naive in her life.

Emily wasn't comfortable on the pedestal her brother placed them on, it was a lonely place sitting above everyone else and staring down your nose at them. She didn't want to be there anymore. Not that she'd ever realized she was even there until recently.

Nor did she fit in with the people she caught herself watching on an increasingly consistent basis. Alex called them _Wanna-be's_ but she was pretty sure it was the other way around. What did social status mean if you were never happy? Alex certainly wasn't happy very often. When was the last time she considered herself to even be truly happy?

Arizona, she was always happy in Arizona. She wasn't originally from the western state but it felt more like home than anything on the east coast did.

She attempted to shake herself from her increasingly melancholy thoughts and refocused on the activity on the track. Her thoughts circled back around to how she didn't fit in with that crowd either.

Drivers didn't speak much to her, aside from the few she'd pulled aside at times, mainly Green and another that she couldn't remember the last name of. She was _upper crust_ as she'd heard someone mutter and therefor must have thought she was superior to the rest of them. Even if she wanted to approach a group of drivers she was sure she'd spend more time worrying that they were only humoring her because of who her father was.

So she stayed in the family's private box.

That couldn't have been everyone's opinion, though. She'd heard others say they thought she should be a driver.

Wouldn't that just send her father in to some kind of cardiac arrest.

She loved her parents, but her father was very set in his ways and there were still times she couldn't believe she was even allowed to attend a race. He'd finally dropped the argument of it not being a ladylike sport but she could still tell at times that he wished she were not so interested. Her mother on the other hand had nothing to do with it. She really had very little to do with anything. Mary Piston was a matronly figure who owned her own small business in a bustling little community a few hours away from where her family lived, but she'd never once done any of the work herself.

"That's what employees are for, love." She'd told Emily the first and only time she'd ever questioned her on it.

She wondered if it was why racing intrigued her so much. It was tough, it was gritty and left little room for error. The work she saw go in to some of those cars was phenomenal and she realized what her father had meant about Alex not putting forth any effort. You couldn't always just pay someone else to do the work for you.

Emily imagined that you couldn't be a pushover and expect to hold your own out there either. She'd learned quite a bit of the different driver's personalities while the bylaws were being finalized but there was only so much she could learn through observation, but she'd be stuck on the sidelines until she worked up the nerve to finally step out of her comfort zone.

Until then she'd be left observing.

She stared down from her place in the stands to see a familiar group gathered between their cars. She tilted her head and considered them from the safety of the distance she was at and wondered just _what_ had happened that would have caused three of them to nearly withdraw, only to call back before the end of the week and request the forms to be shredded. She'd been fairly sure it had to do with that phone call she'd gotten but her father had refused to tell her the specifics.

They all looked healthy from what she could tell, then again it wasn't like she knew them. She busied herself for a moment and glanced through the small booklet she'd been handed. That was new, but it looked like it was nothing but a collection of local business advertisements and a few endorsements from some of the more popular drivers. She set it aside and looked back down to the track, her eyes narrowed as she considered the group near the front.

There was a slight shift in the demeanor of the 1951 Piston Cup Champion and it took her a few moments to realize it was even Hudson.

It had only really been a few months since the last race of the previous season but there was a sudden self assuredness in the set of his shoulders that hadn't been present before. She was too far away to hear any conversation, obviously, but it seemed like that first year 'rookie stage' or new kid persona had been abandoned. Everything about him screamed challenge, yet he somehow carried it well without the showiness or attitude that celebrities could get caught up in.

Kind of like her brother.

She had heard through the grapevine, though, that he was a little offended over not being titled as _First Rookie to Win a Piston Cup_ , but because he'd run a race the season before in a Ford they were withholding the title.

Not that it had been put in to the bylaws.

She sighed and stood from her place in the stands at the sight of her brother's fiance. When they'd finally get around to an actual wedding she wasn't sure but she knew it would be horrendously extravagant and she'd have to find a new dress that she'd never wear again. With a little time left before the race started, she figured she could catch up with Beatrice and spend some time closer to the track before first call.

* * *

They weren't sure what the delay was about but it definitely made drivers stir crazy. Jesse and River tossed Jesse's white helmet back and forth between them, trash talking all the while.

"Sound awful sure of yourself there, Hud."

"Oh, I dunno." Jesse caught his helmet and tossed it over his shoulder to then catch behind his back. "I've won, what is it-" He paused and looked up toward the sky as if trying to remember.

"Oh, please. Here we go..."

" _Eight_ out 'f the last-"

"Junior, steal his helmet so he can't go out this afternoon."

Jesse dodged and held his helmet out of the other's reach briefly. "- _nine_ races?"

Lou came up behind and knocked the helmet from his hand before tossing it to River. "Watch your blind spot."

"I was distracted."

"Maybe we should have forgotten to mention having your withdrawal slip revoked."

"Mmmm, Henry would've taken care of it."

"You'd think so wouldn't you." Smokey let the hood of the Hornet fall shut and ducked when the helmet nearly hit him, Jesse having caught it by the strap at the last second. "Or I could've left you sitting there in Wilmington another week."

"You wouldn't've."

"Try me, Hollywood."

Jesse only went back to his game, tossing the helmet. "You know, maybe we should go for pinks."

"What do I look like? You've lost _one_ race so far. I'm not losing my car.

"Then stop badmouthing _my_ car." Jesse replied. "You're hurting its feelings."

"You mean your feelings."

"No. The car's. It's very sensitive." He grinned at how Lou rolled her eyes and turned to walk back to her own car, and sidestepped to shove Junior when he kicked the rear tire of the Hornet soundly. Before their laughter and carousing could turn in to real roughhousing, Smokey stepped in.

"Get your overly emotional car under control. After the last week, should you really be stepping out of line?"

"Where's the line-"

"Jesse."

"You are cruisin' for a bruisin', Hudson." River smirked.

"What did the officer say, I _had a mouth."_

They all grinned at Smokey's look of frustration. "Your mouth is about to get you pulled from this race."

Jesse immediately shut up, then he really would lose any chance at the 1952 Cup.

Smokey's grin borderlined on cruel. "That's what I thought."

As soon as he left the line up of cars, though, the boys started over.

"Big brother's watching."

"Shut up, River."

"Maybe Alexander Piston's right, maybe he does cheat-" Junior muttered.

"You did not just say that."

"I think he did." River raised a brow.

Jesse spoke in a slightly over dramatic tone, his brows raised but eyes partially lidded. "Just because you can't make a pass on the track and block at the same time doesn't mean that _I'm_ cheating!"

"Yeah? Well block this hot shot-" River drew back and flung the helmet over Jesse's head, harder than he intended to and cringed when it went flying over the wall.

Of course that's when they'd hear first call.

They'd all started laughing as Jesse had tried to back up as far as he could against the half wall but was still a few inches short of catching it. They gained the attention of other drivers as they shouted animatedly over the fact that it actually _had_ gone over the wall.

Lou had been on her way to rejoin the crew and stopped to see what had just happened. She shook her head and sighed, putting her own helmet on. "Why do I waste my time with them."

Jesse cringed when he heard his brother's voice.

"If you don't get that helmet back and are in that car in five minutes I am calling up to the press box!"

It was a strange foil to when Jesse and River had been laughing at Junior's predicament, only this time Jesse was the victim. He took a few steps back for a running start and jumped the barrier quickly. His momentum carried him further than he intended, though, running smack in to a poor unsuspecting girl who'd turned around when someone had pointed out that she'd nearly been hit by the same helmet he was chasing down. He caught her by the arm before she hit the ground, too rushed to offer anything more than a quick but sincere apology as he set her to rights before collecting the helmet from the ground and running back to the track.

"I am so sorry!" He choked out through his own laughter as he let go of her arm. He didn't even have time to really look at her as he collected his helmet from where it had rolled near her feet.

* * *

Emily stood a little dumbstruck as she was still regaining her footing, she looked towards Beatrice in confusion. "Bea, what...just happened?"

"Well if what I just saw is really what just happened. You were this close to being knocked out by a helmet that just flew over the wall. Um- what's his name- number 51-"

"Hudson?"

"Yeah. He jumped over that wall, nearly caused you to break an ankle but caught you at the last moment, grabbed the helmet and disappeared."

Emily turned back toward the wall and leaned out in an attempt to see through the line up of cars, just able to see the usual group as Hudson jogged back to meet up with the others. They all appeared to be caught up in some excitement and she could tell by his animated motions, that Hudson must have been explaining what just happened.

She glanced down and tested her weight on the ankle she'd nearly turned.

Tough sport, indeed.

* * *

"Nine out of ten races!" Smokey met him at the door of the car with a broad smile.

The smile on his brother's face was brighter if it were possible. "Get ready, Henry. We're going to make a lot of enemies this year."

Smokey took the helmet from him and passed a rag through the open window. "Get cleaned up, they're whining for pictures already."

"I don't look any different than last week."

"Yes, you do." Smokey replied patiently. "The dirt is more over your left eye. Last week it was the right, and I'm sure your hair is just that much longer."

"Haha..." He stopped when Smokey leaned toward the window, lowering his voice and making it a private conversation despite the commotion around the Hornet.

"I can't believe this is really happening."

Jesse grinned broadly, eyes bright and tone lowered to match his brother's. "It's really happening."

"You'll be a household name by the end of this year. Just now I was approached by two different companies that want you to back their products." He smirked at the way Jesse looked out the front windshield and wrinkled his nose. He hit the door panel of the Hornet. "We'll talk about it later. Get over to the winner's circle."

* * *

Jesse shoved the check in his back pocket even as he shook Mr. Piston's hand. He never felt like he could really take a full breath until the press dwindled down. Keeping up that press smile was exhausting sometimes.

"Glad we got you behind a wheel, son. It's really taken off since you started driving."

"Thank you, sir, and I enjoy it." He nodded, feeling like he looked like a ruffian in front of the spotless suit coat and dress shoes.

He was handed what looked like a business card and glanced over the cardstock even as Piston explained.

"It's rather early but we want the drivers to be made aware well ahead of time. Week after the last race there will be the first annual Piston Cup Banquet. It'd be very much appreciated if the Hudson team made sure to attend. Most of the other teams have been taking your lead as it is."

Jesse looked over the invite with raised brows and nodded once more. "Of course, sir."

"Fabulous." He slapped Jesse's shoulder roughly, grinning at his own joke before turning to leave. Jesse had turned back to the Hornet and was just about to slide in to the driver's seat when he heard Piston's voice.

"Oh, and Hudson?"

Jesse paused, looking over the roof of the car questioningly. "Sir?"

"Careful who you use your wit on. You're a sharp kid but not everyone appreciates that." He grinned at how the #51 driver blanched before nodding once more.

"Yes, sir."

"There's a good lad."

Smokey hadn't heard any of the conversation as he'd been too busy making sure the trailer was ready for the Hornet. He raised a brow when it came to a stop and Jesse jumped out. He didn't move from where he had his forearms rested against the rail.

"What's your problem?"

"It was Piston-"

"What was Piston-"

"Piston called the Deputy at Wilmington-"

Smokey only stared at his younger brother for a moment before putting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Gunna have a talk with your sister when we get home."

* * *

 **AN: _Go for pinks:_ A race in which the winner claims the title to the loser's car. Winner takes the car's _pink slip._**


	19. Running Shine

**AN: We're getting in to the final months of 1952, this may be the very first time I actually finish a fic I started.**

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, _come on_ , Jesse! I'll only be sitting in the passenger seat!" Ruth gestured animatedly as he barred the doorway from her passing through. "You won't even know I'm there!"

"I will know you're there. You're pretty hard to miss."

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not, but still!"

"No." He shook his head and glanced up at the wall clock. "I'm already late. Stay here."

She huffed, offering him a sullen look before turning away from the door and pouting her way through the house. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked back through the living room to where he was rifling along the counter, through mail and Piston Cup notices, in search of his keys.

"Looking for something?"

He stopped abruptly and looked up with a no nonsense expression. "Where are they."

"Where are what?"

"Stop messing around. Where are my keys, Ruth?"

She shook her head with an innocent expression. "I don't know."

He huffed and looked at her, his hands braced on his sides and his mouth forming a thin line before he must have thought of something and stalked through the house past her and started up the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"To look for my keys."

"Where?"

He paused halfway up and looked back at her. "Well your room, obviously."

"Jesse! You can't just go through my things!"

"You can't just _take_ my keys!"

He paused at the top of the steps, having expected her to follow him and listened for a moment before realizing she wasn't even in the house anymore. He flew back down the stairs, through the house and out the back door to see the Hornet idling with Ruth in the driver's seat.

"Ruth, get out of my car."

She only waved and smiled cheekily when he tried the door handles on that side, she'd locked herself in. "Don't worry, I'm a good driver."

"There's no time for this."

"It's all going to be ok. Trust me. I'm The Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

"Ruth I am not kidding."

"But I have a Piston Cup and everything!" She reached for the gearshift while still looking up at him and ground the gear when she went to shift in reverse.

" _Ruth!_ "

"It's ok, that's probably the only time that's ever happened." She let her foot up off the clutch and started down the driveway, Jesse walking alongside his own vehicle.

"This stopped being funny ten minutes ago. _I'm late._ "

She finally rolled her eyes and put the car in neutral before pulling the brake and unlocking the door. Ruth huffed and yelled at him as he shoved in to the driver's seat, forcing her over to the passenger side. "I thought I couldn't go!"

"I said I'm late! Now you have to."

She grinned, sitting up straighter as he put the car in gear and tore out of the driveway.

* * *

"What took so long?" Junior glanced up from the work he and the others were finishing up on their cars as Jesse closed the door of the Hornet.

"I was delayed." He shot a look at his sister who only waved from her spot in the car.

Ruth leaned to the side to get a better look at what they were doing and her brows drew together when Jesse came around her side of the car. She rolled the window down and watched as he covered the distinctive paint job of the Hornet.

Without looking up he answered her silent question. "You might wanna keep the window closed, coal dust, charcoal and who knows what else Junior put in here."

"Why?"

He only looked up at her from where he knelt near the door and she smirked at how the boys seemed to get it all over their faces. "I am not running shine with a walking advertisement on my sides."

"It comes off?"

"Of course it does, do this all the time."

She only raised her brows and rolled the window back up, waiting patiently as the group got themselves cleaned up.

"What's with all the drastic measures?" She asked once he got back in the car.

Jesse split away from the others and Ruth noticed he was checking the mirrors frequently even as he answered, maybe she should have stayed home. "We don't always do that, but lately people on the other side of Willmington have been buying off Junior and the quickest way there is straight through. I have to go pick up the barrel we left at the mine but Junior said he's noticed them keeping an eye on the area lately. They know we ditched it."

"And you're going there anyway."

"I said you should've stayed home."

"You're right, I should have."

She knew he was a runner but there was a difference when it suddenly involved traveling through dry counties. It was dark out but she suddenly felt like there was a spotlight on the Hornet even with the work he'd done on darkening the sides. She blinked a few times, startled when she suddenly wasn't able to see and hissed at him. "What are you doing?"

"Will you stop. I know what I'm doing." He cut the engine, letting the powerful motor fall silent as he let the car coast to a stop above the abandoned mine reclamation. With the headlights off, they could only just see the moonlight filtering through the trees. He'd made sure to get the car to stop under a large pine. The last thing they needed was someone to happen upon them because they'd noticed light shining on the Hornet's chrome accents.

"Stay here." He murmured and made a challenging face when she appeared to be ready to protest. He wasn't about to let her climb down an embankment that steep only to be stuck trying to hike back up. She physically wouldn't be able to handle it, and he'd be too busy trying to handle a barrel half his own weight.

Ruth watched out her window and tried to track his figure in the dark until he disappeared over the bank. Down at the bottom he suddenly appeared again, along with who she could only hope was one of the other boys before they disappeared again near the opening of the mine rec. She sunk down in to her seat, staring up toward what little she could see of the night sky through the tree branches and wondered how often some of these roads were used. She blinked, hearing tires on the gravel road and peeked up over the side of the driver's side door. She felt her heart stop and watched a patrol cruiser drive past on the main drag only thirty or forty yards away, watching the headlights through the trees. Luckily they weren't using a spotlight. She bit her lip and sunk further in to her seat, closing her eyes as if that could suddenly make the Hudson Hornet invisible. Ruth would have to give the boys credit, they apparently knew what they were doing with those cars.

She could hear muffled voices and felt her heart begin to race again, unable to tell where they were coming from and hoping she wouldn't suddenly be stumbled upon by law enforcement. She didn't exactly know how she'd explain sitting in a disguised vehicle in the middle of nowhere.

Someone laughed finally and she recognized her brother's voice. Sitting up quickly she rolled the window down and hissed in to the dark.

" _Shhh!_ Jesse..."

"-but that wasn't going to happen-"

"When has that ever happened?"

She recognized River's voice then and bit her lip, looking back toward the main road before trying again.

"Jesse-"

They kept talking and she could vaguely tell they were rolling the barrel up the bank. Finally she leaned out the window, afraid the sound of a car door would be too loud.

" _Jesse._ "

The boys both laughed lowly, struggling to get their footing and keep control of the barrel as they finally made it to the car. Jesse noticed her expression suddenly, though. "Everything alright?"

She glanced back toward the road and lowered her voice further. "There's a cruiser-"

She didn't get a chance to finish. Jesse glanced up in the direction she had been looking. He and River becoming serious in an instant.

"Ruth, pull the trunk latch, but only when I say."

She nodded, watching him out the window as she leaned across the seat. She could tell he must have been waiting for River to keep it from making any sound.

"Alright, now."

She waited in tense silence and looked across as he eased the door open and slid in to the seat. "Where-?"

"That way." She pointed and whispered.

River was at the driver's side door but she couldn't hear what they were saying. He ducked away and was gone before she knew what was happening, it was too dark to see anything past that tree.

"What's going on?" She muttered lowly, watching her brother, or trying to, for any signs of distress or concern.

His tone might have been low, but she didn't catch any trace of worry when he spoke. "We wait."

"For how long?"

"As long as we need to."

She stared through the dark back towards the road before looking back in his direction, just barely able to make out his profile. "How do we know when we're done waiting?"

"When we get the signal."

"What's the signal?" She asked, concern edging her tone once more.

"You'll know it when you see it." She could hear the smirk in his voice and wanted to backhand him.

"Jesse, this isn't funny."

She heard him shifting in the seat and could tell he had reclined it somewhat, apparently they'd be waiting a while. "You wanted excitement, right?"

"This isn't what I had in mind..."

* * *

She'd nearly fallen asleep at least twice, only to jerk awake and startle him in the process before he went back to his own vigil.

"What time is it?"

"I have no idea."

"Have you ever waited this long before?"

"No."

The cruiser had passed twice, at least they hoped it was the same cruiser or they'd never be getting out of there. Ruth could no longer even see her hand in front of her face and was hunkered in the seat with her arms crossed. She nearly jumped when headlights suddenly came on, much closer to where they were parked than she'd anticipated.

"Get ready."

"What?"

"That's the signal."

"Signal for what?"

"For you to hold on."

The engine rumbled to life and Ruth was surprised with how quickly the Hornet was able to whip around and face the other direction, with one hand braced on her door and the other on the dash she watched out the front windshield. What was possibly even more startling, was three other cars all suddenly coming on to the road around them.

"Everyone's here?"

Jesse flipped the lights back off. Ruth could tell he was splitting his attention between answering her and concentrating on what was happening around them as the four Piston Cup vehicles shuffled in between each other. Like shuffling cards in a deck.

"There's two cruisers and four of us." He hit the brake with a hiss when Junior had to cut in front of him and downshifted before working his way back up through the gears. "They won't know which car to follow if we give them enough of the run around-"

As if on cue, Ruth heard the thin wail of a siren and turned to see flashing lights on the gravel road behind them.

"They set this up!"

"They knew the shine was left there." Jesse agreed. "They also knew they could flush us in to Willmington County if they stayed on the southern ends of all the roads."

"That isn't fair, it's not illegal until you cross in to Willmington." She bit back a startled sound as the Hornet passed over a group of rough potholes. She wasn't surprised to hear her brother swear lowly for the same reason.

"I know, and so do they." He moved to the outside of the group and slowed abruptly to let them pass as they continued to keep the cars weaving in and out of each other. "It's what they're counting on."

"That's pretty low."

Jesse thought she seemed strangely interested in holding a conversation while he was concentrating on not sending them over an embankment, or crashing in to any of the others. The road wasn't exactly wide and it was _dark_ and he was the only actual driver that still had shine in the vehicle. Those red and blue lights were a little close for comfort and he was not enjoying being at the back of the group as the cruisers both seemed to be gaining ground.

"Is racing like this?" Ruth suddenly asked.

"What?"

"I said is racing like this..."

He nearly laughed and swerved around a tree stump, glancing in the mirror to see if it had slowed the cruisers down at all. The trees along the road opened up suddenly and he was able to move to the soft dirt on the shoulder, the Hornet fishtailed briefly before digging in and moving around the rest of the group with little effort.

"A little- minus the police, and the lack of headlights and shine in the trunk, and-" He was forced to move back on to the road, luckily far enough ahead so as not to cut anyone off. "- _passengers who are too nosy for their own good!_ "

"I just wanted to see what was so exciting."

"Well I hope you're happy."

"I'll be happy if you get us home and not thrown in jail!"

"That's the plan!"

Jesse wove in and out of trees and kept pace with the others as they all continued to do what they could to keep the cruisers confused as to which car was which. He muttered lowly to himself as an afterthought. "Otherwise, Henry's gunna kill me..."


	20. Wasting Our Entry Fees

**AN: My poor abandoned baby.**

* * *

Late night fog lay in the ditches and over what could be seen of the river from the main road, and the surrounding areas were lit by the moon just enough that he wasn't tripping over himself in the dark. Smokey leaned his back against the door of his truck, taking in the chilled damp air and sounds of water over the bank in silence, kicking the heel of one boot against the toe of the other. He drummed his fingers against the side of the pickup and finally looked away from the fog at the sound of some well known Piston Cup engines and then glanced toward the open hood of the truck beside him.

Unsurprisingly, four familiar silhouettes flew out of the old shine path and on to the main drag, each set of headlights coming back to life almost simultaneously. He huffed lowly and only followed the shape of the Hornet as it flew past before looking in the other direction in anticipation of what was following.

Ruth craned her neck in a better attempt to see and turned toward her twin quickly. "Th-that was Henry!"

"What?"

"Back on the side of the road!"

There was no turning back at that point and Jesse only glanced up briefly in the rear view mirror before shifting gears and gunning it.

Back on the gravel shoulder, Smokey only messed with the switch on the monstrous flashlight he'd fished out from behind the bench seat and scratched at the back of his head with a free hand, muttering to himself something about long talks and unofficial house arrests.

Just as he'd figured, two cruisers picked their way on to the main road, albeit much more carefully than the high horsepower vehicles they'd been chasing. He pushed himself away from the truck as their headlights finally fell on him and squinted against the flashing red and blue. He would have been happy with one car stopping, but when both pulled over behind the pick up he barely choked back a smirk.

Too easy.

"Lucky you came this direction this late." He set the flashlight aside as both patrolmen approached.

"You see any other cars out this way?" The first man asked, hands rested on his belt.

"Oh yeah." He shrugged a shoulder noncommittally and gestured in the opposite direction the group had gone. "Joy riders came flying out of the trees, couldn't be bothered with helping someone broken down on the side of the road. Figures, really. Probably some hot head kids that think they're the next big names in Piston Cup or something."

He glanced between the two as they split up, the officer who hadn't spoken turned back to his vehicle and made a U-turn while the first gave Smokey his full attention finally. He watched the other patrol car leave before answering the man's obvious question.

"Not sure what's wrong with it. Just cut out on me and won't start again." He glanced back at the retreating cruiser once more while grabbing the old flashlight and joining the officer to look under the hood of his truck.

"Electrical, you think?"

"No idea." He drawled, as if he couldn't tell what he was looking at. "Darndest thing, too. Just had it serviced this week."

"You should ask for your money back."

Smokey only hummed in agreement as the two stared down at the engine in silence and he had to hold his tongue when every suggestion the officer attempted was so far off the mark he wanted to laugh. He did at least humor the man and went to start the vehicle when he asked.

Nothing, not even a click.

"Seems electrical..."

"Well if it wasn't so dark, I wouldn't be having such a hard time of it." He muttered, leaning over to shine the flashlight in hard to reach places of the engine compartment. He stood back and feigned ignorance.

They went back and forth like this for some time until he figured enough time had passed. "Could you try to start it? I might get a better idea."

The officer obliged, and as soon as he'd opened the driver's side door, Smokey leaned his weight over the terminal clamp on the battery he'd previously loosened, pushing it back in to place and tightening the connection with his fingers. He pulled his hand away just in time to hear the truck turn over without so much as a stutter.

He raised both hands in the air in a _beats me_ kind of gesture when the officer came around the side of the truck to stand beside him again.

"Who knows." He spoke over the low rumble of the engine and let the hood fall shut with a heavy thunk. "I appreciate you stopping though."

"Not a problem, you live far from here?"

"No, just far enough away that it would have been an inconvenience to walk."

"Well." The officer started, looking over the truck in the dark, and for a moment Smokey was concerned he might suddenly recognize it. "Drive safe. I should catch up with my partner."

"Good luck finding those joy riders."

"That's been an all night ordeal, if he hasn't caught up with them now, they're long gone."

"Too bad."

The officer only hummed in response and tapped the hood of the pickup as he moved to return to his car.

"You have a good night, officer." Smokey watched his silhouette walk along the edge of the road back to his car, rolling his neck and adjusting his ball cap before opening his own door.

"You too, sir. Stay out of trouble."

"I intend to."

* * *

"I hope you had fun tonight."

Ruth looked up innocently from the table as Smokey entered the kitchen through the back door, eyes wide and expression ignorant. "What?"

"Don't try it. I saw you."

"But how-?"

"I have my ways." He replied cryptically.

"I told her not to come." Jesse muttered from his seat at the table, reading over Piston Cup paperwork he'd been ignoring for too long.

"And you-" Smokey turned toward him briefly while going for coffee. He changed the subject with a quick look toward Ruth. "How old is this?"

"Just made it..."

He nodded and went back to his original agenda. "One of these days I'm going to take the ignition out of that car and you're only going to be able to use it on Sundays."

"What?" That had his attention, and he looked up from some long winded letter that stated too many things he was already aware of. "Henry, it's my car-"

"And this is my team." Smokey countered. "I'm not putting in another withdrawal notice any time soon."

He couldn't exactly hear what the kid was muttering under his breath but he was fairly sure he could take a good guess. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop while you're ahead." Rounding the table, he slapped the unopened mail he'd pulled from his jacket pocket against the back of Jesse's head.

"Ow."

"Suck it up. That didn't hurt." He tossed the few envelopes in front of his brother on the table.

"What are these?" Ruth asked quietly, picking up a fairly thick envelope and turning it over in her hands.

Jesse glanced across before looking back at what he'd currently been reading. "Addressed to me, so if you open them, you're tampering. Which is a federal offense isn't it?"

"You wouldn't get me in trouble, Hollywood." She smirked and continued to help herself to whatever notices he'd been sent.

Smokey only looked between the two with raised brows before turning his attention on Jesse. "I hope that shine made it to its destination."

"I dunno. I switched out with River once we knew we'd lost those cruisers and he took it the rest of the way. Junior should ask for double."

"Why?" Ruth glanced up from the paper in her hand.

"Well for one, the trouble went through to get it to whoever it was that bought it, and two, it's been sitting in that ravine aging for what-" He glanced toward the ceiling as he did the math. "A little over two months?"

"Strong stuff by now." Smokey whistled, sitting across from the twins and picking up one of the envelopes addressed to the team.

"Will you stop going through my mail."

Smokey only held up the envelope, addressed to _Team #51 Fabulous Hudson Hornet._ "I don't see your name anywhere."

Without further comment, he ripped open the envelope and scanned the cover page quickly before moving on to the rest of the small packet. "Some upcoming tire company wants your endorsement."

"I only use _dirt track racer._ "

"Not in the off season."

Jesse let his own letter fall to the table and looked at the ceiling melodramatically. "I'm not endorsing a product I've never used."

"Well, Prima Donna, winner of fifteen of nineteen races, they're sending a free set to my garage and it says that if you _do_ decide to give them an endorsement, they'll pay all entry fees to Piston Cup races for the 1953 season."

A long silence stretched through the kitchen and Ruth smirked faintly when Jesse finally reached out in silent question for the letter and forms accompanying. "What's the brand?"

"Lightyear."

She allowed the silence to continue for some time before bringing up her own topic of conversation, the notice and information she'd been reading through. "Speaking of endorsements, well in a round about way I guess. There's times and information here for the banquet you talked about. You both are expected to attend as the team, but you each get a plus one."

Without looking up from his own reading, Jesse commented distractedly as he flipped back and forth between papers. "Start looking for a dress, I guess."

"I can make one."

Jesse let his hand hit the table a little rougher than necessary, paper crinkling a little. "No."

"Are you criticizing-"

"No. I'm not, but why stress yourself out over something like that?" He gestured vaguely to the counter where he'd seen one of those magazines Joan had left behind a while back. "Just order something."

"What if it doesn't fit?"

"Then get it tailored." He nearly whined in response. "Or tailor it yourself. I don't know."

Ruth stared at him a moment, biting her lip before looking toward their older brother who only shrugged a shoulder. She tapped the table top rhythmically with her fingertips a moment before standing quickly to go in search of one of the fashion magazines.

The boys glanced at each other knowingly before Smokey changed the subject, going back to their previous conversation concerning endorsements. "So as long as you think the brand is even subpar-"

* * *

Another two months rolled by and their routine took over once more. Ruth had decided she was done adventuring in the realm of moonshine running, but it wouldn't have mattered much because Jesse had taken a step back for the time being as well. She wasn't sure if it was because of their brother's threat or not, but not having to worry about him at all hours of the night was a nice change of pace. With only seven races left to the season, and even with her more limited knowledge of the sport, she was sure that the 1952 Piston Cup had his name on it.

Twenty-two of twenty-seven races was hard to ignore.

"He's got the season in the bag." Lou commented one afternoon that the crew was at the house. "The rest of us are just wasting entry fees at this stage of the game."

Ruth glanced up at her briefly before turning her attention back to the magazine in front of her. The other girl didn't sound like she was upset over the fact but Ruth wasn't completely sure. She turned the page slowly and looked over the illustrations of formal looking attire. "Does that upset you?"

"Me?" Lou looked away from the yard and toward her. "No. Just being out there is good enough. Wins are nice, but it's not a _be all end all_ for me."

"I'm sure it is for some."

"Oh, it's getting a little rough, trust me. Drivers I would have never expected to race so hard have been surprising us lately. It's getting a little more personal I think."

Ruth blinked a few times and tilted her head, raising her brows as she thought over the implications. Racing was dangerous, she knew that, and she'd always known there were those dangers lingering around the track. She trusted her brothers but with Lou's comment, she couldn't help but allow that worry to begin to weasel it's way back in. The more popular Jesse became, the larger the target on his back.

That Hornet didn't need any more attention drawn to it.

Her breath escaped her in a silent hiss through her teeth as she decided to change the subject. Sliding the magazine around for her friend's opinion, she pointed to one of the dresses. "What do you think of this one?"

* * *

 **AN2: Fasten your seat belts. 1952 is almost over and it's all downhill from 1953.**


	21. 1952 Piston Cup

**AN: This has never happened before. It is such an amazing feeling to be able to delete a memo of writing you did nearly six months ago because you actually made it to the chapter it's meant to appear in...**

* * *

There were no misconceptions that season as far as who would be taking the 1952 Piston Cup home. Even Alex couldn't put up a front to the fact that #51 had only lost _six_ times so far in the entire season, and if he hadn't won, he'd still been in the top five every time.

So had Alex, but a single win opposed to _twenty-seven_ was not going to cut it.

Normally the cup was presented just after the last race, but seeing as this year was a little different, with the added event of some fund raising banquet, there were a few changes coming around. Which meant he'd have to sit there with a polite expression on his face while the biggest award in the sport was handed to the one person he couldn't stand.

He'd been asked a few times why he didn't like Jesse Hudson and every time the answer changed. The kid was a nobody, a know it all who came from nothing. He didn't deserve to be on the track. A ruffian who'd struck it lucky after approaching some motor company.

Maybe he should scratch from tomorrow's race.

No, that would look petty.

It was one of the few times the entire Piston family was under one roof. He paused briefly in the hallway and backtracked a few steps to look through the open doorway of his sister's room.

"What are you doing?"

Emily looked away from the full length mirror and eyed him briefly over her shoulder. "Deciding what to wear for the banquet."

"It's a week away."

"Less than a week actually. You might be able to just wear a suit and tie but that's not exactly going to cut it for me."

"Is this what you do all the time? Play with shoes and dresses."

She kicked off the heels she'd been debating over and stalked toward the door to stand in front of him, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. "If you're allowed to primp and preen all week for a race, just so you can sit in a car and _lose,_ I think I can take a little time in considering what I'm wearing to a formal event."

She did feel a little bad at how his ears turned red with embarrassment as he glared down at her, having at least a six inch height advantage, but she still stuck her head around the doorway when he turned away and stalked off down the hall. "Good luck tomorrow, Alexander."

It was probably a good thing he hadn't scratched, at least he could claim two wins for 1952. Didn't change the outcome concerning the Cup, though.

* * *

It was a new and foreign feeling to be put up in such extravagant accommodations. They hadn't had to put a dime forward, as anyone who had sent an RSVP by a certain date were handed their reservations and receipts, paid for by Mr. Edward Piston.

It might have only been for a weekend, but free was free.

Ruth came up behind her twin and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. She looked over their reflections in the mirror from over his shoulder and patted his cheek a little rougher than necessary. "Look at my little brother! He looks like a _movie star_!"

Jesse pushed her arms away but smirked at her comment. "Should I go to those open auditions they were talking about on the radio."

"No."

"No." He continued to grin, meeting her eyes through their reflection. "Why not?"

"I'd never see you again. They'd love you." She leaned against him and batted her eyelashes mockingly. "With those blue eyes you really would be a Hollywood star."

"And die penniless when they turned brown."

"Jesse!"

"Just a joke."

"Well I didn't find it to be very funny." She patted his shoulder affectionately and kissed his cheek before turning to leave the small bathroom. "What time are we leaving?"

He checked his watch. "Twenty minutes?"

She hesitated and backtracked to stand behind him, looking past his shoulder to look intently over her reflection.

Jesse hooked her elbow with his own and dragged her attention away from any attempt of self criticism. "Relax. You look beautiful and I'm sure you'll be the envy of all the girls there."

"You have to say that..."

"You're right, I do." He raised a brow as they left the room to meet the others in the hotel lobby. He tossed the key to the room up in the air and caught it with one hand before putting his arm around her shoulders as they headed down the hall. "Henry paid me twenty bucks."

They were kids from the sticks, backwoods moonshiners and dirt track roughnecks who'd been polished up and thrown in to some provided Rolls-Royce convertible, afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it and walking away from the event with an enormous price tag lingering over their heads. It was obvious to see who was comfortable in the setting of the large reception hall and who was not.

"I bet those are real crystal glasses." River muttered when they found their table.

"You so much as touch one, and so help me-" Lou hissed in reply.

"What? They won't notice a few missing by the end of the night."

The Hudson siblings took one side of the table, Ruth and Joan sitting between the brothers while the rest of the crew took up the other side. Junior leaned on his elbows and clasped his hands in front of his face, looking toward the front of the room. "You know they're gunna make you go up there, Hud."

"I am not going up there." Jesse muttered, side-eying him critically before pulling the intricately folded napkin from the wineglass in front of him. "If I have to, Henry has to."

"No." Smokey cut in quickly. "My name's not on it."

They had no idea what to expect, the most formal events they'd ever been to being weddings or funerals, and it wasn't like they attended those on a regular basis. No one at the table was paying much attention when the schedule for the evening was announced, they were more interested in the cost of the table linens and wondering if the gold linework on the plates was real or just metallic paint.

"The sport's not popular enough for real gold yet." Smokey whispered as he turned back to the table.

"Why are there five forks." River started again.

"They expect you to walk off with four, obviously."

"I am never going out in public with any of you again." Lou pinched the bridge of her nose before looking pleadingly toward the other girls.

"Yeah but it was a nice ride, though. Wasn't it?" Junior smirked.

Much to everyone's enjoyment, Jesse had been forced to weave his way through the maze of tables to accept the season's Piston Cup. He was certain he didn't know half of the people in attendance and they didn't know him. It was a networking opportunity for Mr. Piston, to show colleagues who had as much money as he did that _yes, this is a thriving sport, invest in this and you won't be sorry._

The kid who'd spent his last five dollars on the gamble of his life now stood at the front of a room filled with more money than he'd seen in his lifetime. _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ was a title recognized to those who didn't know Thomasville from Fireball Beach, and while they didn't know the first thing when it came to racing, they recognized the face of the twenty-one year old kid who graciously accepted the piston shaped award from the admins at the podium. While he'd grown accustomed to attention on the track, a room of over two hundred breaking in to applause was a surprise and he mouthed a quick thank you before hustling back down the few steps, but not without a grin and look toward his table where he'd met both his sibling's gazes quickly.

With the ceremony and the pomp and circumstance out of the way, the rest of the evening was theirs to enjoy. Jesse had been a little surprised when Joe Moore came around to the table to offer congratulations before offering to take the Piston Cup off his hands. It made sense, there wasn't room on the table and keeping it on the floor next to his chair made it difficult to do much.

Ruth slapped his shoulder with the program in her hand, having finally gotten a chance to look it over. "You didn't tell me _Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin_ would be here."

He stuttered briefly and looked at her wide eyed. "I...didn't know that was a big deal to you-"

She sighed and shook her head sarcastically. "You're such a boy."

* * *

Mingling wasn't difficult, but when most of those their own age seemed to be involved with their own cliques it did get a little tricky at events like this. Emily wasn't about to have her ear talked off by someone twice her age who thought they knew more about racing than she did. Granted, she didn't know everything, but she was sure she knew more than the majority of those in the room, save the teams in attendance of course. They would obviously be the experts. Especially team #51.

She stood with her future sister-in-law, and while she wasn't old enough to drink herself, she kept Beatrice company near the drink counter. They both turned at the same time at a shrill but pleasant sound coming from near the back of the room. Unsurprisingly, the group previously in question had discovered the phenomenon of getting a wine glass to sing. With four different glasses lined up, the water level of each just slightly different from the next, a few of the boys from that table were having themselves a grand time in experimenting with their new found talent. Emily pressed her mouth in to a thin line, if only to keep from grinning or outright laughing at the helpless look on some of the girl's faces at the table.

"At least someone's enjoying themselves."

Emily looked toward her questioningly. "You're not?"

The older girl only shrugged one shoulder. "I guess I was expecting to see more of your brother this evening."

She made an effort not to roll her eyes. She wasn't getting involved with that. As the younger sister and sister-in-law to the couple, she wasn't going to have her evening ruined over something trivial. With a low sigh, she picked up her glass and attempted a grin before excusing herself. She'd rather spend the evening stuck to her father's side than listen to Bea complain. She did see her brother briefly as they crossed paths to different ends of the room, but she didn't turn to see if he was joining Beatrice or not.

"I don't believe we've ever met."

Ruth looked away from the table of extravagant desserts and stilted conversation with some Piston Cup administrator, she couldn't remember their name, to see Alexander Piston to her left.

Oh.

This should be good.

"No, I don't believe we have, though I recognize you." She smiled politely.

"Oh? Well there's only so many names recognizable in Piston Cup."

"I do try to keep up." Ruth replied vaguely.

"Alex."

"Well I knew you weren't Jesse."

She bit back a smile at how hard he had to fight back a look of offense before shaking his head. "No, certainly _not_ Jesse Hudson." After a moment, and realizing she wasn't going to elaborate, he redirected. "And your name?"

"Ruth."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

She'd be flattered if she didn't know who she was talking to.

"Who are you here with?"

"Oh, my brother is floating around here somewhere. He's rather popular."

She could tell he figured she meant someone in administrations, because why else would she be stuck attending one of these things. She was just a silly little girl who wanted to meet some celebrities, right?

Right.

She glanced back at him with a polite grin before turning her attention back to the options of confections in front of them and realized the person she'd been speaking to had moved on. She could hold her own, but would have preferred to not even need to on an evening that she was supposed to be celebrating her brother's success.

"You have incredible eyes."

"Thanks, I get that a lot." Jesse drawled as he cut in to the conversation, a protective arm crossing between the two as he set Ruth's glass of wine down.

She looked up from the table and watched with a grin as realization dawned on Piston's face. He looked quickly between the two of them and stuttered.

"Hold on, you're-?"

"I told you I was here with my brother."

"Why don't you go compliment your _fiancée's_ eyes." Jesse muttered as the two of them turned away. Ruth had grabbed her drink quickly and looked back at Alex with raised brows, mockingly scandalized.

She allowed Jesse to lead her away from the table. "I can handle myself you know. I don't need little brother to come to my rescue."

"I wasn't rescuing you, I was telling him off."

"What's the difference?"

"There's a big difference."

She rolled her eyes before realizing they were nearly back to their own table. "I didn't even get to choose a dessert."

"I can get it."

She pinched him through the jacket material and he pulled his arm away from her quickly with a sour expression. "I can get it myself, Jesse Aaron."

"Fine." He slid in to his seat at the table and watched her as she set her wine glass down. "Bring me back something, to pay for the bruise that's gunna leave."

"You're such a baby."

He only watched her expectantly and grinned when he knew he'd won.

When she did return, she paused a few tables away to just watch the group for a moment, ignoring any looks of confusion she may have received for standing immobile with a dessert plate in each hand. River and Junior were animatedly describing _something_ that was worth sharing, she couldn't hear exactly from where she was. Lou had obviously been unfortunate enough to sit through the same story one too many times because she appeared to be patiently waiting for it all to be over. Jesse was leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, listening with a look of amusement. Henry had only returned to the table shortly before Ruth had, setting a small plate in front of Joan who looked up at him with a quiet thanks.

She grinned faintly, closing the gap between herself and the group and nodded in acknowledgment when Jesse thanked her.

Unable to read her expression at first, he shifted in his chair and let his hands fall to his sides with a faint look of concern she knew all too well. He murmured. "Alright?"

"Yeah." Ruth grinned as she took the seat beside him. She commented quietly before they both turned their attention back on the unfolding story. "I'm perfect."

* * *

 **AN2: Jesse's comments on his eyes come from the Paul Newman quote.**

 **Also...this fic is just about halfway finished now.**


	22. Early 1953 and Vacation

**AN: I'm in the process of trying to put together a playlist/soundtrack for this story, if you have anything you think is fitting I'd love to hear!**

* * *

 **February 1953**

Winter might have been mild in Georgia concerning temperatures, but mother nature didn't give them much of a break otherwise.

Rain pelted the windows, drumming against the old glass with the sound of something closer to a hail storm than just rain. The wind ripped across the Hudson property with so much force that the boys had been staring out the kitchen windows for hours in concern over that dead tree near the barn. It was one of those projects that constantly fell by the wayside. We'll get to it next week. Next month. You know, we should really think about taking care of that thing before it takes half the barn down.

They'd finally ventured out, and Ruth had stood in the doorway wrapped in her house coat.

"What do you think you're going to accomplish-"

"We're just keeping an eye on- please stay inside."

"I am inside..."

" _Inside_ inside." Jesse clarified, pointing away from the door and further in to the kitchen. His heavy duck cloth jacket was drenched and the hood nearly obstructed his view. He stood on the porch, just on the other side of the screen door to speak with her. When she didn't immediately back away from the open door he gave her a look and flipped his hood back. "Ruth Anne-"

"Ok, I'm going..."

"Thank you." The wind gusted again and he hunched his shoulders against the onslaught, squinting against the mist that blew on to the porch.

Ruth could even feel it against her legs where she stood and pulled the quilted coat tighter. "But what is it you're doing-"

"The tree's about to come down." Jesse pointed over his shoulder, and without needing an explanation, Ruth knew that the real concern was a very specific vehicle parked in the barn less than ten feet away from that tree. She'd watched him fret over it all morning, and would have thought there was a live animal in danger for how he'd paced and glanced out the windows with every forceful gust of wind that had caused the house to shift and creak.

Before she could say anything else, Smokey had come running up the back steps to meet Jesse where he stood. She huffed when their attention turned away from her and she could no longer hear what was being said. She could see Smokey gesturing out toward the barn, rain water dripping from the bill of his hat despite the fact that he had the hood of his own coat up for protection as well.

She bit nervously at her lower lip and shifted from one foot to the other as the two started down the steps back in to the rain. Jesse only paused briefly, catching their brother's attention as he'd turned back toward the house and yelled over the sounds of the storm.

"Close the door!"

It actually took more effort than Ruth expected as the wind fought back and forced it's way in to the house. She was forced to lock the old dead bolt to keep it from flying open and smacking her in the face. She immediately went to one of the windows, but with the waterfall of rain over the glass panel she could only make out their figures so long before they disappeared.

She closed her eyes when she caught herself pacing and took a deep breath as she looked up at the clock. With every loud bang of tree limbs hitting the house she flinched, but forced herself to stay away from the windows, instead she busied herself with staring down at her bare feet against the cool tile floor and picking at a stray thread in the sleeve of her coat.

She jumped, and yelped in surprised at a sharp and violent _crack_ from the direction of the barn. She listened in paralyzed fear as the tree did exactly what the boys had been afraid of, crashing and tearing the ground up in its descent. She could hear limbs snapping and splintering, the very ground ripping as if it were cloth. Ruth stood with her hands over her mouth, imagining any number of horrible scenarios and tried to will herself to turn around, to work up the courage to see the extent of the damage or even just to open the door. The barn could be decimated, along with the Hornet.

The boys themselves could have been foolish enough to be near it-

Her breath caught at that thought and she spun on her heel to look at the door. She took a hesitant step forward and jumped again at the sudden rhythmic thumps against the heavy oak.

"Ruth open the door!"

She lunged forward and frowned at how her hands shook around the latch and door knob as she undid the locks. Pulling the door open, she was relieved that her twin's tone hadn't been frantic, just hurried, which was understandable, considering...

She looked past his shoulder to see the tree had missed the barn and looked wide eyed at the boys as Smokey started to clarify. She backed in to the house and held up a hand for them to wait until she returned with towels.

"What-...?" Ruth looked between the two as she took the coats away from them and hung them over chairs to then set those chairs in front of the stove. She opened the door and turned the oven on as Smokey started over.

"Was gunna move the car. Wind beat us to it."

"Is it ok?" The fact that Jesse wasn't in hysterics meant it must be, unless he'd been stricken with some form of shock.

"Tree missed the barn by about this much." Jesse held his hands about a foot and a half apart. "You can barely walk between the two."

Ruth picked up the towel he'd set on the table and threw it at him. "Well then if the crisis is averted, you can concentrate on not getting my floor soaked, thank you." As an afterthought she looked between the two. "Did you move it?"

"No reason to." Smokey replied, drying his hair and the back of his neck. "No trees around the barn now."

"I hope you weren't near that tree." She muttered as she turned toward the counter, already planning on something hot to make.

"It fell away from us."

"Jesse, shut up." Smokey slapped him with his towel.

"What? She asked."

Ruth had turned back around quickly and slapped her twin's forearm with the wooden spoon she'd grabbed.

"Ow-! You did!"

She made a face and hastily apologized for the red mark she left. She rubbed her hand over it in a poor attempt to erase it, laughing as she did. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that would happen."

"The truth hurts." Smokey deadpanned.

"You're telling me." Jesse muttered before a shiver ran through him. He moved to stand in front of the open oven and watched idly as Ruth collected the towels.

She glanced up at the window, despite being unable to see through it. "I hope it lets up before we leave."

* * *

Their off season trip for that year was south as opposed to going north. A week in Florida was a far cry from a week in New York and not a single heavy jacket had made it in to their luggage. For the first time in nearly two years, the old Ford traveled further than the county line. They'd seen no need to take a train when it was barely a seven hour drive.

While only weeks earlier they were battling some of the worst rain they'd seen at home in a long time, here the sun beat down and reflected on the waves that could be seen from the glass doors of the small beach house they were staying in. Their first three days they'd spent wandering up and down the shoreline, most of that time reminiscing over the one time they remembered traveling to the beach when both parents were still alive. The only clear memory any of them had was that they'd been the only ones within a few hundred yards in either direction, they'd had a picnic lunch and one of the twins had been stung by a jellyfish.

"It wasn't me." Ruth shook her head, kicking her feet through the sand and shielding her eyes as she looked out toward the water.

"Well I wasn't. I think I'd remember something like that."

"It was one of you." Smokey huffed and tossed a shell in to the waves. "Because I very specifically remember Momma fretting for the rest of the afternoon and we couldn't go very far in to the water."

Ruth had begun to reply when she stopped mid sentence with a startled shriek, causing both boys to jump as well. She picked her feet up out of the sand and wrapped her arm through the crook of Jesse's elbow, looking back at where she'd been walking.

"What are you-"

"There's a _thing_ in the sand-!" She looked at the bottom of her foot for any sign of...what, the boys didn't know.

All three of them stared at where she'd previously been walking. After a moment Jesse looked up and rolled his eyes, they probably looked ridiculous all standing there staring at the ground.

Ruth moved to stand behind him, humming miserably as she pointed. "There, what is that?"

In her walk along the beach, she'd inadvertently kicked a small horseshoe crab that had buried itself in the sand, as it worked on maneuvering itself to flip back over, it dislodged the surrounding sand to reveal spider like legs and a tail.

"Ew!"

"Will you relax." Smokey huffed, and like boys searching for frogs in a pond, he and Jesse immediately crouched to investigate.

"Wait. Don't hurt it-"

"I thought you didn't like it." Jesse deadpanned. "And we're not gunna touch it."

"I don't have to like it to feel bad for it..." She trailed off and kept a safe distance behind her brothers. They watched in silence, the boys interested and Ruth somewhat horrified as it used its tail to turn over and began to find a new _safer_ place to hide itself.

"It's a horseshoe crab." Smokey commented as he straightened.

"It's disgusting." She wrinkled her nose.

"It's afraid of you. Just let it go and it won't bother you..."

They continued on their walk and Ruth moved closer to the waterline, keeping her feet _above_ the sand and where it was more packed.

"I wonder how many of those things are out here, I didn't know they hid like that."

"I wonder how many I've run over in a race."

"Jesse, you're a horrible person." Ruth pouted.

"How was I supposed to know!"

"These poor animals are just living their lives out here, minding their own business..."

"You're the one that kicked the thing."

"On accident."

"What's the difference?"

"There is a difference." She argued, but was unable to follow up with anything.

* * *

Every evening the siblings would venture back out toward the water. Ruth watched the waves in the dark as her brothers carted down more wood that was stacked at the edge of the house, and while the previous nights she would dig her toes and fingers through the sand, that evening she refrained. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her knees and listened to the sound of the waves beating against the shore. The moon would be full before the end of the week and lit the area enough that they could see well enough to get back and forth from the house to where their fire was.

She looked up when her shoulder was nudged silently and muttered a quiet thanks as she took the offered soda before looking over her shoulder. "Where is he going?"

"Bringing out more stuff I guess."

She shrugged a shoulder faintly and shifted her back against their makeshift backrest of an old log and looked up again when Jesse finally returned, stepping over the hollowed out trunk to sit between the two.

Ruth raised a brow. "You are _always_ eating."

"Do you want one?"

"Yeah."

"Make it two." Smokey muttered from his other side.

"Way ahead of you." Jesse reached behind their log to where their special designated sticks had been kept the last few nights and propped them up over the fire ring they'd constructed.

They split a candy bar between the three of them even as they waited for the marshmallows to toast. Only _Hershey_ chocolate could be used on their s'mores and that knock off they'd found at the little store a few blocks inland would have to be tolerated on its own. All three of them might have griped over it, but they weren't exactly turning it down either.

Shoulder to shoulder they watched the waves roll in, allowing the sounds of the fire and water take over for conversation for the time being.

After a few moments Ruth spoke while trying to keep her marshmallow from making a mess. "I hope that crab is ok..."

There was a brief silence, as if unsure they had heard her correctly.

"I'm sure it's fine..."

"You don't know that, Henry." She suddenly defended, leaning out past Jesse to see him better.

"It _looked_ fine."

They squabbled back and forth while Jesse sat between them unfazed, his attention only drifting between the fire and the water in front of them.

"Well I hope it's safe and in bed by now."

Smokey blinked and tilted his head slightly. "You think it puts itself to bed?"

Jesse's attention was finally caught at that. "What are you talking about?"

"Whether that horseshoe crab has a bedtime or not."

The youngest Hudson sibling only blinked once before he started to speak, but cut himself off before continuing to stare at the eldest.

He finally was able to form a coherent sentence, although sounding unsure. "Does it have a bedtime..."

"Who knows." Ruth started. "Maybe they sleep during the day and I woke it up."

"Well that was rude of you."

"I should apologize."

"Out of hundreds of horseshoe crabs you're going to find the one from this afternoon and apologize?"

"It's the polite thing to do."

"What if they're all in bed?"

Jesse only stared at his brother with a deadpan expression before reaching for more chocolate, cutting in to the conversation again. "If you ever say something like that again, I will not hesitate to punch you in the face."

"What if-?"

"Won't matter." He knew what was going to be said. "I'll still do it."

"Really? That's a little harsh don't you think?"

Ruth only sighed as the squabbling shifted siblings. It was obvious they weren't _really_ arguing, and only teasing, but they were talking over each other.

"You're really saying-"

"Shhh..." Jesse smirked.

"Don't _shhh_ me. There's not even anyone-"

"Yes there is. Or did you forget the wildlife have gone to bed?"

Smokey shook his head and turned his attention back to the fire, commenting facetiously after a moment. "Boy. You're lucky you're famous."

* * *

It amazed him at times. The twins might have only been five years younger but they still seemed like kids. They were really, and he was forced to remind himself that he was too.

He'd gotten up to tend their fire as it had started to taper off, only realizing after a moment that they had all become silent in the last twenty minutes or so. Once satisfied with his work he'd watched the two, both staring in to the newly rekindled flames until Ruth shifted to pull her blanket around her shoulders. Almost in unison they looked up toward him questioningly, noticing that he hadn't moved to sit beside them again.

"I just forget sometimes." He said before sitting beside Jesse again.

"Forget what?" Jesse murmured.

He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "That there was a time we couldn't think of doing this...that it's only been five years since Momma died...I dunno, take your pick." He glanced toward the other two and was struck with the fact that he also tended to forget how alike they looked, despite the fact that he saw them every day. Maybe it was more apparent in the current lighting, how the fire caught the straight lines of their noses or their brow. Whatever it was, they seemed like mirrored images of the other at that moment.

Ruth looked back at him with a wistful expression before rubbing at her nose with the corner of her blanket. "I miss them."

He wasn't surprised by the murmur of agreement from Jesse. He hummed faintly in agreement as well, looking back at the fire for a few moments before sighing lowly and turning his attention back on them. "They'd be proud of you." He met Ruth's eyes specifically. "Both of you."

Jesse just watched the flames, listening again. Of course parents would be proud, but what if they wouldn't have agreed with what he'd done with his life. What if they would have preferred a career in the military- well his mother never would have approved of that choice...but he didn't know enough about his father to even make an educated guess on that front. Henry was the only one with solid memories of the man before his death.

It didn't really matter then, did it...

Before he could get too lost in his own thoughts, Ruth shifted beside him, pulling his attention outward.

"Huh?"

"Did you decide on that offer from Hudson?"

Just before they'd left on vacation, the team had been contacted by Hudson Motor Car Company to be their representatives in a marathon style race before the Piston Cup season officially started. There was no official date set, but they'd been told that different car makes across the board would be entering and competing to prove which company had the superior craftsmanship. Jesse hadn't had much time to think it over, and there wasn't much information to be had.

But it was racing.

It was what he was good at.

"We'll probably enter." Smokey answered for him, glancing toward him once before pushing a small log down with the piece of driftwood he held.

Ruth looked between the two quietly before settling her shoulder against her twin's again and putting her attention back on the fire. They had time to worry about racing later.


	23. Promotional Race

"You should see the look on your face." Lou muttered with a raised brow before going back to her inspection of her nails. While the rest of them might not have been participating in this promotional race, they'd at least shown up as moral support. The three of them were leaned back against the outside rail, standing near the Hornet.

"Why?" Jesse replied with a scowl still set in place as he readjusted his helmet for the third time before yanking it off. He ran a hand through his hair before trying again but something just didn't feel right. He contemplated looking in to getting a new one after the day's race unless it sorted itself out. It was distracting.

"Don't think he likes these new kids showing up." Junior commented with a look toward some of the newer cars further down the line up.

"They don't bother me." Jesse followed his gaze while finally getting the helmet to cooperate.

There was no official word that some of the unknown drivers that had been selected by _The Big Ten_ car companies would race for Piston Cup when the season started, but it was hard not to overhear when a few of them were being interviewed by newspapermen and a few even being filmed.

"So why isn't anyone talking to you, Hud?" River chimed in with a smirk.

"I'm old news." He muttered distractedly, looking down the line up and sizing up the field.

If they didn't know him better they might have been offended with the seemingly short responses but after the 1951 season they'd all noticed it was generally the norm before a race. Jesse's mind was elsewhere, no conversations of real importance ever took place once they were on the track, because half the time, he'd forget what they'd been discussing when the race was finished anyway.

"Did he just say he's old."

"That makes you ancient."

"Watch it."

"Hey." Junior cut off their banter and suddenly changed the subject. "You're kind of missing a crew chief aren't you?"

Jesse kicked at the dirt behind the Hornet, replying as he knelt and grabbed a handful. He let it sift through his fingers before brushing his hand off on his pant leg. "He and Ruth went ahead to the first check point."

Piston had put quite a bit of promotion behind this despite it not being an official Piston Cup race. It was a different style than any of them were used to, sections of the course ranged anywhere from dirt and sand, to a few small stretches of pavement and even a few miles of unmanicured terrain near a golf course. That area was heavily marked for obvious reasons. They'd doubted that the members of the golfing community would appreciate their course being torn up by a field of racecars, no matter how small it may be. Twenty cars was the smallest field Jesse had seen in a while, but when the vehicles entered were in peak condition, and the drivers hand picked by their teams, it might as well have been a large field. Hudson had given him the option of using a Hornet off the line which he had hastily refused. He knew his car, he knew what it could and couldn't handle and he wasn't about to have a wrench thrown in to a race like this by being forced to learn a newer model. He doubted there were _that_ many changes made in only a few years but he wasn't going to risk it either.

There were designated check points throughout the course, seeing as if there were problems, drivers wouldn't exactly be able to bring their vehicles in to be worked on. Jesse wasn't sure what they were expected to do if there was trouble _between_ those checkpoints but it was a little late to ask now.

As the conversation continued, Jesse couldn't help but overhear his title spoken by a journalist he recognized, but for the life of him, couldn't remember their name. He didn't hear the conversation in its entirety but he did hear one of those newer guys replying.

"Hudson's a target. If you want to get anywhere in this sport you have to best him, and that's what I'll be aiming for when I join the circuit this season."

Jesse didn't turn around, but he did huff faintly with a smirk before turning his attention back to the others.

* * *

"I'm surprised you're even here." Emily commented in a tone that suggested she really wasn't interested in holding a conversation but still felt the need to make her observation known. If Alex couldn't get attention on the track, she hadn't expected him to be a spectator. She wasn't even really there to be a spectator, considering the cars would be leaving the starting location as soon as the race started.

But her name was Piston, and it beat sitting around doing nothing.

"I wanted to see some of the new drivers."

"Are any of them driving Piston Cup this season?" She glanced up from the list of names on the half sheet in her hand and looked over the newer cars she didn't recognize.

While neither of them mentioned it, she knew he was irritated over not being chosen to drive. Their father put money toward the _sport_ , that didn't mean he owned any cars or felt the need to influence any car companies decision on who to represent them in an event such as this.

"A few. I wanted to see how they sized up against some of the more experienced drivers."

 _Don't hold your breath_ , was her immediate thought, but she kept her mouth shut and went back to the paper in her hand. She tilted her head and raised a brow. "There's a Chrysler out there?"

That was a first. She looked back up to survey the line of cars and was pretty proud of herself when she could distinguish each make with a quick glance, a year ago she would have been clueless.

"Yeah. Hemings or something."

"Heming." She corrected.

"Right. Met him yesterday as the drivers were getting here."

Emily only hummed faintly in acknowledgment and turned her attention away from her brother when she heard the usual sound of first call.

* * *

"When should we be expecting him?"

Smokey glanced at his watch, kicking idly at the right front tire of his truck. "Wasn't supposed to start until nine, it's not quite ten-thirty yet. You've got a while."

Because this was not an official Piston Race, a few of the usual rules didn't apply and Ruth had taken the opportunity to tag along. She didn't see many races to begin with, and while there wasn't _a lot_ of action to be seen, she at least wouldn't have to listen in on the radio or wait until the boys got home to hear how they'd done.

Ruth huffed and crossed her arms. She didn't want to sit _in_ the truck but it was hot sitting in the direct sun already.

"How'd you get up there anyway." Smokey raised a brow and leaned his forearms over the hood as he looked up at her.

Ruth shrugged a shoulder where she sat on the hood, her back against the windshield. "How does anyone get anywhere."

He watched her with a deadpan expression briefly before replying. "Between you and the other one I'm gunna be gray before I'm thirty."

" _The other one._ "

He only shook his head and squinted faintly against the sunlight before looking out toward the marked course, but Ruth caught his smirk.

She probably should have brought a book or something to keep herself occupied. Ruth knew she should have realized how much down time there would be and after a while she did climb down from her perch. The metal of the hood heat up quickly and she'd become uncomfortable within half an hour.

Finally after what felt like ages, there was a pick up in activity as other teams began to anticipate their driver to make a stop and she followed the direction everyone was looking as the sounds of engines began to echo through the valley. When they rounded the corner, she grinned widely, unsurprised to see the Hornet. Jesse wasn't alone though, and a number of cars she didn't recognize were right up along with him as they came through the straight where the teams were gathered.

Jesse wouldn't get out of the car if it wasn't necessary, and from the looks of things he wouldn't have to as Smokey did a quick walk around the Hornet and stopped at the window. She chanced the opportunity to catch up and see what was happening.

It was strange to have someone else refueling the car, but for this particular race, teams had been granted an extra hand. Smokey glanced once at the man before directing his attention on his brother.

Jesse was nothing short of focused, looking up at his siblings from the driver's seat.

"How's it handling?" Smokey asked.

"Same as always, but pavement is a pain in th-"

"Jesse Aaron."

"...trunk..." He amended with a look up at Ruth, wrinkling his nose.

"Alright." Smokey grinned. When Jesse was in a good mood, he was in a good mood and it looked like everything was going well. He slapped the door panel heartily when the car was finished refueling. "Get your _trunk_ back out there before the rest of 'em."

Jesse offered a mock salute before shifting in to gear and tearing back on to the course with barely a glance in the rear view mirrors.

There was a brief pause as they watched the Hornet find it's footing before Ruth looked up and slapped her brother's shoulder. "Don't mock me, Henry."

He only smirked at her before turning toward the truck, they'd have to leave now if they expected to get to the second check point. "It's not mocking, it's teasing."

"That's the same thing!"

He waited for her to get in to the truck and looked across at her even as he put it in reverse. "No, one is generally done in a belittling manner." He continued as he watched the mirrors and backed out of their space. "And I'd never belittle you."

They were able to make it to the second check point before the racers, as the course looped out for miles before coming back toward the starting point. It was another waiting game until they heard the engines again. The terrain this time was a sandy dirt, and it was obvious that Jesse was fairing much better this time around. Flying in to view, the Hornet was a good four car lengths in front of the next vehicle. Ruth was a little disappointed in how uneventful these stops seemed to be, the one time she was able to be in the thick of things and nothing interesting was happening.

Smokey took note of her expression with a faint grin as they climbed back in to the truck to get to the finish line. With as fast as this raced seemed to be going, she wasn't sure if they'd even make it there before Jesse did.

"Do all races go this quickly?"

"Quickly?" Smokey raised a brow as he rolled the window down, glancing at her incredulously. "You do realize it's been over four hours already..."

"It's what?" She looked out the windshield and back at him in turns, trying to figure out where all that time had gone.

* * *

"Five hours, sixteen minutes is the official recorded time."

Jesse rolled his neck, had shed the jacket hastily and Ruth was a little concerned with how run down he looked. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees and ruffled sweat slicked hair before taking the water that their older brother held out to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Just tired."

"And no wonder." Ruth glanced up, hearing Junior's voice as the others joined the group." Officials just said that the interior of the cars are averaging over a hundred degrees..."

"What?" She looked back toward her twin, getting up from where she'd been sitting beside him on the wooden bench to stand in front of him, fussing over him suddenly. "You can't spend that much time-"

"Really, I'm fine-"

"-in a car that hot." Ruth reached out to put a hand against his cheek, partially in concern but mostly to embarrass him.

"Ruth, I'm _fine._ " He muttered while dodging her attempts to coddle him.

She relented finally, but after a pause where she considered him for a moment, she reached out again and patted his cheek roughly.

Other teams were already packing it up, drivers all looking as worn out as the next. A few cars that had limped across the line at the back of the pack were smoking from under the hood as their teams set about to take stock of what the damage might have been. According to Jesse, the Hornet had run its usual paces, and Smokey wasn't about to touch it until the motor cooled. Anything else was just asking for trouble. It sat parked to their right in the shade, looking no worse for wear than it ever did after a race.

"They going to do anything special since you won?" River asked finally.

Jesse leaned back, appreciative of the faint breeze that had picked up and commented even as he watched the other teams' activities. "Run a big fat ad on Hudson."

"You get something out of this, though. Don't you?" Lou added.

Jesse only nodded, he'd been promised to be handsomely compensated for his efforts no matter the outcome of the race. A win of course promised more, and that would be split evenly between the Hudson brothers.

Smokey finally turned his attention away from the other teams and joined the conversation. "How'd some of those newer drivers do?" He knew not _all_ of them were joining Piston Cup but some of them were.

"Good." Jesse nodded, preoccupied with dumping water over the towel he'd been using and throwing it around his neck. "Might have some real competition next- ow-" He ducked too late and got a slap to the back of the head from Louise.

"Deserved it." River commented.

"Yeah I did."

As much as he'd been trying to avoid it, from his peripheral vision, Jesse could see the press making their way from one driver to the next and as the teams dwindled, it opened the floor for them to snag him for some comments and questioning. He had nothing against them, they were doing their job, but after a race like that, he just wanted to pack up and get home. He made the silent decision that should races like this become more popular, he'd definitely be sitting a number of them out. A sanctioned track was one thing, off road was a whole different ball game.

Unsurprisingly, he heard his name uttered by a man with a press card in his hat, note pad and pencil in his hands. Jesse stood from his spot on the bench, plastered on a smile and grabbed the back of his brother's shirt sleeve as he started toward the man.

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. I'm not going this one alone." He glared at his brother for a brief moment before looking back toward the reporter and slipping easily in to that southern boy charm he'd been labeled with the moment he stepped foot on a track two years ago.

* * *

 _Hudson Hornet streaks 500 miles in 5 hours 16 minutes - 94.93 miles per hour average. In blazing 101 degree heat!_

 _You won't be racing your Hudson but it's great to know that Jesse Hudson drives one right out of stock, just like one you can buy from us. The same championship performance, rugged stamina and road-hugging safety are all yours in a Hudson...and only Hudson!_

* * *

 **AN: That final little blurb is taken from an ad run after Hudson beat 10 other makes in a similar styled race. I basically substituted Jesse's name for Herb Thomas, who originally won.**


	24. Rough Season Start

**AN:** **1953 is big year. There's around nine chapters so far.**

* * *

While the preseason promotional race had been hot and dry, the beginning of the official season had been cool and wet. The first six weeks had been nothing but postponed races and delays. The tracks were just too waterlogged to be able to sustain the stress of a race.

Ruth looked out across the yard and huffed lowly as the rain continued to fall. They'd all been able to at least make it out to the porch at least, well minus Jesse, who'd put himself under a self quarantine after last weeks race. Everyone who'd been on the track had come down with some illness. Where theirs had only lasted a few days, his had settled heavily in to his chest and only two days before the coming race was still keeping him holed up. He'd refused any coddling from Ruth, going as far as to lock her out of his room. Aside from the possibility of her also becoming sick, he'd only wanted to sleep it off. He couldn't do that if she was barging in to his room every hour and a half.

"So is he still sick or just moping."

Ruth would have been offended if she didn't know that Junior was speaking in jest, she wrapped the crocheted blanket closer around her shoulders, keeping the breeze at bay, and looked toward Smokey as he answered.

"Sick." He paused, holding his coffee cup halfway between the table and his mouth and raised a brow. "Well maybe both."

They weren't so conceited to believe they'd just have a repeat of last season, but it had been a jarring start. They hadn't expected the road block they'd been faced with but Smokey chalked most of it up to his younger brother being overconfident, and then ill. They hadn't gone two races without a win the previous year, and while he'd still finished in the top five every race so far, The Fabulous 51 hadn't taken a checkered flag yet. Which really wasn't a big deal, seeing as they weren't even two months in to the season.

"Am I the only one who feels like the track's getting a little crowded?" Lou muttered, looking away from the gardens and toward the others.

"No." River replied, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. "Harder to gain positions lately."

Smokey pressed his mouth in to a thin line, staring out in to the rain falling from the edge of the porch roof before looking over his shoulder and through the screen door in to the house.

"Oh, hey. He does live." Junior smirked when Jesse came up to stand just inside the screen door. "Wow, you look like hell."

He ignored the slap to his shoulder from Ruth, grinning faintly.

"Feel like it too." The corner of Jesse's mouth turned up faintly before he coughed lowly, turning his attention toward his siblings. "Do either of you know where th-"

"I'll get it." Ruth stood up from her spot to go inside."

Junior and River exchanged a confused glance. "How did she...?"

River only shrugged, maybe it was a sibling thing.

"No. You're not." Jesse murmured with a scowl. "Just tell me where it is."

"It'll be easier if I just get it."

"Ruth Anne."

Before she could pull the door open, he flipped the latch and had effectively locked her out. He grinned at her look of offense.

She tried the door again for no specific reason and sighed, tilting her head. "Upstairs bathroom, under the sink..."

"Thanks."

"Make sure you make something hot to-"

"Already on it."

"You still racing Sunday?" River cut in.

Jesse answered, even as Ruth looked back at the group over her shoulder and Smokey looked across the table at them with a less than enthused expression. "It's too late to scratch without being penalized. I should be ok by then, though."

"Easy win for us." Junior smirked.

"You keep thinking that." Jesse replied with a grin. He offered a quiet thanks to Ruth and disappeared in to the house again.

When Ruth returned to the table, River was the one to ask how she knew what Jesse was asking for. Smokey cut her off before she got a chance to reply.

"They read each other's minds." He held his coffee cup away from her, expecting the slap to his shoulder in retaliation.

* * *

Jesse was not feeling any better by Sunday, and on top of feeling like he had the Hornet sitting on his chest, he'd finished further back than he had since '51.

He scrubbed his hands over his face roughly before running a hand through his hair and tossing his helmet through the open window of the Hornet.

Smokey had wanted to go over a few things but was cut off when one of Piston's regulars approached the car. He couldn't help but notice Jesse looked more like a cornered animal than the one they were usually chasing down to get a comment from. He waited patiently to the side, watching as Jesse eyed the man sullenly before remembering himself and straightening with a forced grin.

"Don't be a sore loser, kid." He said to no one as he turned to make sure the trailer was secured. He did keep an ear turned toward the conversation, though.

"It's been making it's way through the grapevine that you've been under the weather?"

"Yeah, you might wanna step back." He grinned but shook his head. "Everyone has been after last week. It's just taking a while to run its course."

"Would you say it affected today's race?"

"Absolutely. Racing is nothing but concentration." He shifted and leaned back against the Hornet, holding back a cough. "When you're not at your best it's definitely going to affect your performance."

"Well we look forward to seeing you back at your best."

He laughed faintly. "You're not the only one."

Jesse kept up the facade until they were on their own once again. Stretching exhaustedly, he sat slumped in the passenger seat of the truck. The only reason he was even awake was because their conversation had yet to reach a point that he could close his eyes.

"You were playing it careful out there."

"Of course I was, I'm not gunna kiss the wall because I'm stuck in a fog."

"You should get checked out."

"I'll sleep it off." He retorted quickly.

Smokey only hummed in less than impressed acknowledgment and the truck fell silent a few moments. Jesse had closed his eyes and jolted awake when Smokey started speaking again.

"One thing I did notice, Heming's car is actually _bigger_ -"

"Didn't think that was possible..." The Hornet was a boat, Jesse was the first to admit to that.

He was pretty sure he knew where the conversation was going, he just didn't feel like discussing it at the moment. He shifted uncomfortably and Smokey finally let up.

"Lock your door."

"What?"

"Lock the door. If you're going to fall asleep I'm not picking you up off the highway somewhere because the door opened and you fell out."

Jesse muttered under his breath but did as he was told, and his brother wasn't surprised when the truck fell silent five minutes later. Smokey drove the rest of the trip in silence, mulling over everything he'd picked up watching the race that afternoon.

* * *

"If you're not better by Wednesday, I'm yanking you out of the race. I'll even return the entry fee to your sponsor out of pocket if I have to."

"Henry. I'm _fine._ "

"Yeah, you look it."

They stood on either side of the Hornet on the track in Thomasville. For the first time in weeks the sun was out in full force, no longer hiding behind dark clouds or teasing with only shining for a few moments at a time.

"Actually." Smokey regarded him in silence for a moment, adjusting his ball cap before bracing his hands on his sides. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

" _What?_ " Jesse closed the driver's side door and rounded the front of the car. "You can't just-"

"I can." Before Jesse could argue, he continued. "It would do you good to sit out a week."

"Henry."

"The season might have only started but you need to back off a little."

He huffed, looking away and glaring at nothing because in all reality he didn't have much say when it came to this. If Smokey was going to make a decision as team owner and crew chief, there was nothing he could do. "Yeah, fine. Let's go home."

"You're not going home. You're going to a doctor."

Ruth had been surprised when they were back at the house far sooner than she had expected. She didn't get much explanation from her twin but hadn't been surprised when Smokey told her that Jesse had been put on bed rest and that he was moody over being kept out of the next race. She looked over the box in Smokey's hands and then up at him questioningly.

"Homework." He answered. "Got them from the press box."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

He made a face, shrugging a shoulder as he stepped around her to get to the living room. "Since when has that ever stopped us."

"Henry!"

"Relax." He looked at her over his shoulder. "Yes, we're allowed to do this."

Throughout the rest of the week Smokey watched the reels of the season so far, even going to the extent of taking notes and different times on the film to show Jesse later. They'd been told he was past the contagious stage but he'd still avoided Ruth for most of the week until that Sunday. Since there was no traveling to a race to be had, the three had slept in for once and piled in to the living room once Smokey had gotten there.

As much as he'd deny it, the week of lying low had done Jesse good. He felt better than he looked at least, and sat curled up in the corner of the couch with an old quilt their mother had made. "What are you showing me?"

"Everything we need to work on."

Jesse squinted briefly toward the projector screen in distaste. It had been a _long_ time since they'd had to put in much work at the track. That was something he'd have to get used to again. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of trying to do all of this between races either.

 _"Heming on the inside. He's found his opening and he's off like a shot! The rest of the field wasn't expecting an upset like this new Chrysler driven by rookie Leroy Heming!"_

"That's a stupid name."

"So is Jesse Hudson."

Jesse only turned away from the screen and toward Ruth with a look of contempt. Smokey threw his pencil to get the kid's attention and gestured to the film. "Pay attention. This is what you need to be watching for..."

They spent the rest of the day going through each race run that season and returned to specific reels throughout the week. Unfortunately, the track wasn't theirs to use at their leisure anymore. Anyone within a fifty mile radius had decided they wanted practice time also, including amateur hopefuls who prayed to hit fast enough qualifying times to get a _chance_ to race in the circuit when it came back around to Thomasville.

Still kicking the last of the lingering cough, Jesse had focused on going over the Hornet instead of fighting through the list of wait times at the track. Ruth was sure it was somewhat strategic as well, let everyone think he was still down and out while he fine tuned the car and got over his illness. Either way, she wasn't complaining over having the two around more so than usual.

* * *

Smokey hopped out of the truck and made his way around the back of the house from where he'd parked around the front, with the ground still as wet as it was he wasn't going to risk Ruth's anger over _putting ruts in her yard._ He paused before making his presence known and stood alongside the house, only looking around the corner when he was sure he wouldn't be noticed.

The twins were at the table, sorting through saved seeds Ruth had collected from the garden the year before. Some would be ready to go directly in to the ground, others Jesse was throwing in a bowl of water to soak while Ruth was debating on if the small tray of seedlings she'd started inside would be safe enough to transplant outside, or if they needed to get a little larger before making the move.

"This'd be easier if the bag hadn't broken over winter...what is this?"

Ruth glanced up. "Tomato...but I already have some started."

Jesse made a face and gestured helplessly before picking out any of the seeds they wouldn't need. After a few moments, they went back to what had caused Smokey to pause in the first place.

Ruth loved to sing, and in years past had been known to have one of the best singing voices around. When she'd become ill, that hobby had been pushed to the back burner for more important things. He hadn't heard her sing in a long time.

Surprising, but somehow _not_ surprising at the same time, was the fact that Jesse didn't have too bad a voice either. He wasn't quite as passionate as their sister but with enough coaxing from her would give in to just about any demand she ever made. Listening to the two singing an old song their mother had taught them had been the last thing he'd expected to hear upon rounding the corner of the house. They'd of course sung together as kids, but now that they were older they could actually _harmonize_ and sing together as opposed to just trying to sing _over_ the other.

He didn't want to disrupt them, but he wasn't going to hide around the corner of the house either. It was encouraging when they didn't immediately stop upon seeing him. They might have for anyone else, and while he wasn't necessarily part of their _duo_ , something he would occasionally get resentful of when they were still children, he _was_ their brother and a key figure to their inner circle.

Having completely forgotten what he was originally going to say, he just joined them at the table and started sorting out the seeds in to different piles.


	25. Changing Strategies

The Cotter Pin was packed, even for a Saturday afternoon and the group lingered near the door trying to figure out their next plan of action as their usual spot was filled with people.

"So much for being a small town..."

"Anyone got any suggestions?"

"Why can't we just sit outside?"

There weren't any tables available to seat a group of seven and even more people were starting to crowd the door as they weighed their options.

"I say outside." Lou commented and the girls nodded their agreement.

Ruth was already weaving her way through people. "I'm not sitting around at the house all afternoon."

The boys looked over the room again in a final attempt to find a suitable spot before giving up and turning to join them, hesitating briefly when they heard comments from their usual corner.

"Hey there's room over here! You're all with Piston Cup?" They spoke as if they weren't sure and the group all turned back toward them in unison. Ruth and Joan had rejoined them, having realized they weren't being followed outside.

A few of the out of town drivers sat in the crews' usual spot, and Ruth didn't hear exactly what was said next but she glanced toward her brothers when Henry put an arm up to stop Jesse from stepping forward.

The next day's race was in South Carolina and drivers from further south had stopped in Thomasville on their way through. A majority of the group were the season's rookies and while Ruth didn't recognize most of them, she at least knew who Leroy Heming was.

"Did we take your spot? We can make room."

The offer sounded sincere, and even if he was there was tension between the two groups masked with smiles and forced southern charm.

"We were just leaving, but thanks anyway." Smokey replied before anyone could get a word in and silently cued the rest of them to make their exit.

Junior and Lou eyed the group briefly before turning to join the others, but none of them missed the comment that was said just loud enough for them all to hear.

"Too bad. I was hoping to get to hear some of the great _tricks_ they all have. Especially _Hudson._ "

Jesse muttered lowly as they left the dim lighting for the sunlight. "Who th- ow-" He rubbed at his side where Smokey had elbowed him discretely. "Does he think he is anyway..."

"The Fabulous Chrysler 300." River deadpanned as he caught up to them, grinning when Jesse reached out to shove him lightly.

"How dare you."

"Stop worrying about the rookie and start worrying about what we're doing, I'm starving." Smokey stopped at the door of his truck and looked back toward the others. There really _wasn't_ much to do in Thomasville on a Saturday if The Pin wasn't available.

Junior glanced at his watch and commented jokingly that the amateur racing at the Speedway would be starting in half an hour. Not expecting anyone to take him seriously, he raised his hands in question when everyone parted ways to get to their vehicles at the same time. "Hey! What-?"

Lou stood with her door open and answered for everyone. "Watch those kids trip over themselves when real Piston drivers show up out of the blue?"

"Don't forget the likelihood of free food from the stands-" River added.

He only shook his head with a muttered comment of _what the hell_ as he returned to his own car and joined the caravan as they left the lot.

* * *

River was right and the group had been allowed through the gate and had been handed more food than they knew what to do with. It was surprising how many people still came out on Saturdays to the unsanctioned races.

"I thought Thomasville had a population of maybe fifty if it was lucky."

"That's an exaggeration..."

"You think?"

"You know people can cross county lines right?" Smokey muttered dryly while they all waited patiently for people in front of them to find seating in the bleachers. He looked up closer to the press box as he spoke, intent on keeping Ruth away from the dust sure to be heavy in the air once the race started. He nodded to Joan when she pointed out an area that seemed large enough for the entire group and looked back toward the others again. "Though who knows why."

"I know why." Jesse started.

"You shut your mouth, Hudson." Junior cautioned sarcastically and glared when Jesse only grinned and stole food from the paper tray he was unable to protect.

"Those are fightin' words." He grinned with raised brows when they finally made it to the row they'd planned to sit in. Jesse let Ruth in first to sit beside their brother and looked back at Junior once they were all settled. "Watch yourself tomorrow, Moon."

"Yeah, sure. You watch yourself, your target is a little bigger than mine."

Jesse only mimicked him in a mocking tone before leaning against the bleacher behind them and putting his attention on the track. They were high enough up in the stands that they could sprawl out and he was going to take advantage.

"Boy that sure shut him up."

"Nash."

"You called."

"Shut up."

She only grinned and put her attention back on the track.

For the rest of the afternoon they watched and critiqued the racers on the track below. They weren't heckling per se but they were certainly enjoying themselves with smart quips and comments on how they hoped _they_ hadn't looked like that before becoming the names they were.

"This is almost painful." Jesse muttered with a smirk before Ruth pinched his arm with a frown. "Well it _is._ "

"Other people are allowed to drive Hornets you know."

" _That_ is not driving."

She looked down toward the track and tilted her head before conceding with a grin. "Yeah...you're right."

The group fell silent after some time, watching the action on their home track, everyone passing their trash to the end of the line where River threw it in the can at the end of their row.

Ruth leaned back against the bleacher behind them and gathered her hair off of her neck as the humidity of the evening thickened. She hadn't thought to bring a tie or even a ribbon and made a face at how uncomfortable she was. She could breathe though, so she'd take that particular trade off. She suddenly heard a buzzing near her ear and went to brush whatever it was away from her face, but when it got stuck in her hair she panicked, leaning to the side and trying to rid herself of whatever it was.

"What are you doing?"

"Get it out of my hair!"

"Get _what_ out of your hair?"

"I dunno but it's big!"

She hit her twin when he started laughing. "Jesse!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry..." He grinned and told her to sit still, unable to find whatever was tormenting her at first until grabbing what looked like a small beetle and throwing it on the bleacher in front of them.

Ruth ran her fingers through her hair and shuddered, looking down at the insect and making a face. "They're disgusting."

"Everything to you is disgusting."

"Because it _is._ "

They'd gone back to watching the race as the bug crawled it's way across the metal seating and Ruth frowned when another landed at her feet. "I didn't know they _fly._ "

Jesse glanced down, watching the pair for a moment before tilting his head as the late sun caught the iridescent shells of the beetles' backs. "They're June Bugs."

Junior had leaned forward to scoop them up and let them crawl over his fingers before letting them fly over the edge of the stands. "Pa talked about them when he was showing me the old shine trails." He noticed Jesse's look of confusion and elaborated. "You stay on the car in front of you like-"

"-June Bugs on a summer night." Jesse answered with him, nodding. "I have heard that one."

"It helps when you aren't using headlights."

Jesse only hummed before looking back at the track and falling silent. For the rest of the race he paid more attention to the cars below them than the conversation to either side of him.

* * *

"Drafting."

"Yeah."

"You think this is a good idea to experiment with on a race day?"

"What's it going to hurt?"

Smokey considered him for a moment before nodding and setting about unhitching the trailer. Jesse had a point, they'd only had one win in the first two and a half months of the season. "I'm sure it won't take long for others to catch on."

"Maybe not." Jesse grabbed his gear quickly before backpedaling toward where the sign ins were. "But we'll deal with that later."

He only nodded again and waved him off before straightening and cracking his back, muttering lowly to himself as he watched the other teams work at getting their own cars in order. It was still surreal. It was still hard to consider the fact at times that they were in to their third year of racing fulltime as their profession. Their names, or at least the name of _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ was known up and down the east coast and even apparently on the west coast from what they'd recently heard through the grape vine. Even with the newer drivers showing up, they generally watched the veterans with a nervous air or sense of awe in the line ups before races started. It might not have started out as a stellar season, and he could tell Jesse was frustrated while trying to keep his cool, but in all reality they were still sitting in a pretty nice place. His brother just needed to find a new niche.

He was drawn from his musings when Jesse joined him once again, picking up a handful of dirt to inspect before brushing his hand on a pant leg quickly. "Like Thomasville."

"Then you should have a leg up." He replied, still looking over the line up of cars.

"We'll see." Jesse muttered while getting his helmet adjusted.

Smokey was pleased to see that Jesse had seemed to pick up the technique of drafting fairly quickly. It needed some refining but was serving them well so far. He'd been right, other drivers had picked up on it fairly quickly, but Jesse had been able to keep his position as everyone shuffled about further back. He ran a hand over his face and spoke lowly as if the kid could hear him. "Alright Hollywood, you can draft but that still only gets you a second or third if you can't get in front..."

He knew Jesse would be thinking the same thing. He was a sharp kid, always thinking three steps ahead. He just needed to be able to execute whatever he'd planned next.

As the last laps of the race flew by, he watched for the opening they were both waiting for. He was sure the front of the Hornet was nearly touching the bumper of the car in front as they came around the far turn and he inwardly feared that just a bump could send the first five cars in to devastating spins. His eyes narrowed when Jesse backed off abruptly and the front group of cars all spread out suddenly, leaving a gap between the two leading cars. The Hornet snuck through quickly and dropped to the inside, closing off any opening just before passing under the checkered flag.

Smokey grinned. "That's how you do it." He slapped his ball cap against his leg before returning it and pulling it low on his brow.

* * *

"That's not always going to work. They'll watch for that from now on."

Jesse nodded, slouched in the passenger side of the truck but grinned as he punched the lock down in place and watched out the window.

"We still have work to do this week."

"I know."

"Do you think you'll-"

"Henry, _please_ , can't I just have this for today."

He only smirked and raised a brow, looking back out the front windshield as they left the track. "I guess."

Silence fell over the two for some time until Smokey spoke again. "What got you on the idea of drafting anyway?"

Jesse looked away from the window and paused briefly before he began laughing. "Our sister."

He offered a quizzical look.

"And her love of wildlife."

"I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

 **AN: I just want my babies to be happy forever.**


	26. The Big Leagues

**AN: I'm slowly chipping away at sections of writing that I've had written for months. It's exciting and a little depressing at the same time.**

* * *

"Have you ever seen someone more suited to the sport?"

Ruth glanced to her right, not sure she'd overheard the comment or if someone was speaking to her directly.

They stood in the shadow of the main building and entrance to the track. The breezeway from the betting counter was ostentatious when compared to Thomasville. The brick and mortar work of the arched entrance was extravagent and she'd caught herself paying more attention to where she stepped. She didn't need to twist an ankle on the inlaid cobblestone. It reminded Ruth of something more like Churchill Downs or Pimlico, but that was horse racing not auto racing.

She hadn't expected the atmosphere to be so much...well….more than the races she had been able to attend in the past, and when Jesse had warned her about the fanfare and glamour she'd nearly laughed. He hadn't been kidding, though, and Piston Cup had suddenly become something to be part of. The banquet the previous fall had seen to that. There was more money being shown off than she could imagine at this particular track.

The girl to her right was looking out toward the line up and she followed her line of vision to see the Hornet through the crowd. That car was made for racing. Ruth might not know as much about the sport as her brothers, or maybe even the stranger beside her but she knew there was nothing that compared to that navy blue Hudson.

She looked back toward the girl who'd spoken. While she herself was dressed well for the occasion, still a little unused to being able to do so, she could tell the other had been born in to this. Her eyes were hidden behind large stylish sunglasses, her dress probably worth more than Ruth's entire outfit, and she didn't even want to know the cost of the clutch she held.

"He does know how to handle himself out there."

The girl held up a betting slip with a smirk. "I know. My brother hates it."

"He not the racing type?"

"Oh, Alex races. He just rarely, if ever, bests fifty-one."

Alex.

Alexander Piston?

This was Emily Piston.

Huh…

Ruth clasped her hands and held her own betting slip protectively in front of her as spectators passed the two on their own missions to get to decent seating. It might have been one of the nicer tracks and many people might have been making sure to keep up with appearances but Ruth could spot those that were going to hunt down the best general admission seats they could find. She cut her attention between the girl beside her, who she was surprised hadn't wandered off yet and the group of kids crowding the outside wall trying to get the attention of their favorite drivers.

She could always spot her twin from a mile away. Between the jacket she'd made years ago and his white helmet, it only took a quick glance over the line up to ever pick him out. Ruth wasn't real surprised to see him knelt on one side of the railing while children ranging anywhere from eight to fifteen hung on to the white washed fence to get a chance to talk to The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

Jesse was busy signing any scrap of paper the kids shoved in his direction, pausing for a moment when a crumpled bill of paper money was shoved on to his knee. He looked up quickly to see a boy with missing front teeth watching him hopefully, expression turning doleful when Jesse only pushed the money back in to his hands gently.

"I've got a better idea." He grinned encouragingly and jumped up to run back to the Hornet, grabbing paper from the glove box he scribbled a note on the sheet, folded it in half and signed the outside. Returning to the railing he knelt again and admonished the other kids for not giving the boy room before giving him his attention again. "Your mom or pa here?"

"Yes sir."

"Take this to 'em." Jesse pressed the folded note to the boy's chest, only moving on to the next child when the boy was safely on his way. "And don't drop it!"

Both Ruth and Emily had watched the exchange and shared the same expression of perplexed interest, having been unable to hear any of the conversation.

"That's why he's my favorite driver."

Ruth finally looked toward her again, but was unable to question her before Emily continued.

"He genuinely cares."

Emily took out the program and flyer she'd been handed upon entering and flipped it open, pausing when the sounds for first call rang through the new speaker system. She said something quickly about needing to get to her seats before the race started and offered a polite word of parting to Ruth before leaving.

Ruth was sure she'd said something in return, it would have been impolite not to, but she watched the other girl leave with an unreadable expression before raising a brow and making a beeline for the Hornet.

"Uh- Miss! You can't just-!"

She'd ducked quickly under the rail, sure that she was probably getting looks from some of the more posh dandies in the stands but couldn't be bothered as she made her way toward her brothers. She paused briefly to turn toward the official who'd called to her but was beat to it by one of the admins.

"She's fine, Dan. Hello, Miss Hudson."

Ruth smiled. While they'd only met once and crossed paths maybe twice without speaking to the other, she recognized him easily. "Hello Mr. Moore."

"I'm afraid you can only have five minutes before your stuck in the infield for the race."

"This won't take that long, thank you." She nodded and picked up her pace to reach her brothers, who were in the middle of some conversation she was walking in to.

"-have to win this race."

"You say that every race."

"But this time it's more important."

Smokey only rolled his eyes and relented. "Alright, yeah. Fine."

They both turned their attention toward her with quizzical expressions. Jesse sitting in the driver's seat of the Hornet and Smokey leaned back against the inside rail.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded, somewhat winded with her sprint across the dirt but none the worse for wear. "You need to introduce yourself to Emily Piston."

Jesse leaned an arm on the steering wheel, brows lowered and looking skeptical. "Right now?"

"Well of course not."

"Is this what you came out here for-" Smokey started.

"No- well yes but also to ask about-"

Their conversation ended abruptly when Heming had to get past Smokey if he wanted to get back to his car before being penalized. They all fell silent, but none of them missed the wink he directed toward Ruth. He excused himself politely for interrupting, honestly not meaning to intrude and quickly moved past to his own vehicle.

Ruth looked back toward her twin, who glared up at her with wide eyes.

"I wanted to ask about what you-"

She was interrupted by Moore, who approached the Hornet to remind them that she would need to be leaving.

"Can we just talk later?" Jesse huffed, giving her a knowing look.

Ruth relented, but not after reaching through the window and slapping him playfully. "Sure thing."

She was halfway up the stands when the race officially started and the sound of the engines drowned out nearly everything else. It was much nicer than Thomasville, though she'd take their home track any day, and while she wasn't usually keen on sitting alone, the padded seating in the section protected by the overhang of the stadium roof was a nice bonus.

"Are you sitting alone?"

She looked quickly to her right again to once again see Emily Piston seated on the other side of the petition in the stadium sections. It took her a moment to realize the question had been directed toward her.

"W-...well, yes, but that's fine."

"Would you like to sit here?" Emily started gathering her things from the seat beside her.

"Oh, no." Ruth shook her head in surprise. "I can't impose."

"It's not imposing, trust me. I'm alone as well."

Ruth hesitated before standing up and collecting her bag, walking around to the entry of the private box Emily was occupying.

Emily finished rearranging her things while looking down toward the track and continuing their conversation. "Mother never comes to races anymore, and Daddy can only make it to certain ones." She tilted her head and mulled over the fact that none of the girls she used to spend time with found Piston Cup very interesting. It was purely on a whim that she'd invited the girl that was now sitting beside her.

Ruth was silent a moment, taking in the positions of the cars on the track, following the Hornet a moment before replying. "Everyone I know is down there."

Emily brightened at that looking away from the field and toward her with interest.

They spoke the entire race, never once facing a lull in the conversation or moment of awkward silence. They discussed the race and their knowledge of different drivers. Emily was rather thrilled that someone was willing to actually _discuss_ the topic as opposed to humoring her the way her mother generally tended to do. She really only had her father to swap opinions with and he was away much of the time.

They'd been so wrapped up in their conversation that by the end of the race when they parted ways, they both realized they'd never officially introduced themselves to the other. Ruth wasn't sure how the subject had never been broached, but she'd never even gotten a chance to explain that she knew as much as she did, or was even present, because she was Jesse Hudson's sister.

She wove through the crowd, smiling when she caught up to the boys and while she already knew how the race had turned out, she was happy to see the grin on Jesse's face when she approached.

It was another rough race, hot and probably a little dangerous for the drivers. Jesse's face was red and his hair was damp but he was laughing over something their brother said as he rubbed the back of his neck with a towel. Whatever they'd been doing was paying off, but he still wasn't used to having to _work_ so hard.

They were all surprised over how quickly the track cleared, but had to be reminded that it wasn't Thomasville, other events were probably scheduled for later that afternoon. Ruth watched as the boys worked on getting the Hornet on the trailer and waved to the others as one by one each of them left the track. When the boys had a moment she finally spoke.

"What was it you did for that boy?"

"What boy?" Jesse glanced up from the trailer hitch, still looking a little down with the heat. His racing jacket had been thrown over the hood of the pickup and his white shirt was covered in dirt.

"When you were signing-" She paused and raised a brow, seeing the child in question lingering at the rail across from them. Jesse followed her gaze and straightened quickly before hopping over the trailer hitch and jogging to meet the boy and a man who must have been his father.

The elder Hudson siblings watched in silence as the man tried to hand Jesse an envelope over the rail, but their brother shook his head and pushed it back across. They couldn't hear what was being said but the man and his son finally turned to leave after both shaking Jesse's hand and having the program from the race signed.

"What was that all about?" Smokey asked when he finally returned.

"Kid wanted me to sign his money before the race." Jesse collected his jacket while Smokey did up the chains under the Hornet. "I told him to get his pa to use it on a bet instead. Would've been better if my odds had been worse. Payout should've still been around two-fifty though."

Ruth glanced at her own betting slip, having nearly forgotten about it and looked over the odds for #51. "He wanted you to sign fifty dollars?"

"No...that's what I added."

She grinned as realization dawned on her, he'd stowed money away in the note.

* * *

Luckily the betting windows were still willing to honor her ticket. Though, she was sure it had something to do with her last name, and she rushed back to climb in to the truck as the boys were getting ready to head out.

She sat in the middle, as per usual, and grinned faintly when Jesse climbed in and immediately rolled the window down. "I met Emily Piston today."

"What?"

She nodded enthusiastically, grinning at her twin's skeptical look and less than impressed tone. "We sat together for the race."

He only hummed in acknowledgment and she shoved his arm lightly as he locked his door.

"You should introduce yourself, I think you'd really like her."

"Please." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she's just like her brother."

"Not from what I saw."

"Who?" Smokey asked as he finally got in to the truck.

"Emily Piston."

"What about her?"

"I said I think Jesse should-" She was cut off by an exaggerated sound of disgust to her right and backhanded her twin across the chest. "Don't be rude."

"Oh yeah." Jesse turned the conversation on her. "I saw what's his name-"

"Shut up, Hollywood."

"Make me, Dipper."

"I'm going to leave you two here if you don't shut up." Smokey cut in, grinning when they both fell silent, he muttered. "That's what I thought."

* * *

It was a long drive, and Smokey debated stopping for the night as they passed through towns with small hotels. Glancing toward the twins he decided it would be worth it, Jesse had passed out shortly after they'd made it to the highway and Ruth was currently using his shoulder as a pillow, with Jesse's jacket rolled up between them.

He was able to park, get them booked and open the room before waking either of his younger siblings and they piled in to the room without complaint. Ruth was thankful she'd thought of bringing changes of clothes, knowing ahead of time they may decide to do just this. Without a word Jesse had grabbed what she'd packed for him, returning shortly after showering and was already half asleep on the large sofa before either of the other two were settled.

"There's a bed you know." Ruth muttered as she brushed her hair.

"This is closer..." Jesse yawned and stretched. "And I don't want to get up again."

"Lazy."

"Mmm..." He paused and shifted to sit up with a faint look of concern, watching Ruth and glancing once toward Smokey who'd just returned from the shower himself. Jesse turned his attention back on their sister. "You alright?"

She nodded, but seemed somewhat unsure, holding a hand against the dresser as the sensation of vertigo slowly faded. "Yeah."

"You're sure?"

Both brothers watched her from either side of the room, waiting for the word or any sign of apparent distress.

"I'm sure." She looked between the two, confused. "I feel fine, now..." Looking her reflection over in the mirror she lowered her brows in thought. "The heat maybe?"

"Possibly. We're all affected after a day like today." Smokey answered. "Have you eaten since this morning?"

She only shook her head and he immediately went for the phone. "That's probably it then."

He didn't ask what they wanted, just spoke to the operator for the number to the diner they'd passed on their way through town and ordered an assortment of things once he'd been connected. In less than an hour the three of them were picking through each other's food while watching, or at least listening to, The Ed Sullivan Show. In an hour and a half, the twins had put whatever leftover food there was on the night stand and had both fallen asleep.

Smokey watched them quietly, glancing up at the television when there was laughter from the live audience but his attention was drawn back to his siblings quickly, looking much like they had when they'd pass out just about anywhere throughout the house as kids. Ruth faced him, looking like any healthy twenty-two year old would and he pushed his concern from earlier aside. Jesse was turned the other way, his side rising and falling in unison with his twin. Back to back they matched each other even in sleep.

Others sometimes mentioned that they found it disconcerting, but he only ever found comfort in it.

He was separate from that, they weren't triplets but he proffered it that way. There had been times growing up that he'd felt ostracized, or that he wasn't as close but once older he understood that most siblings deal with that at one point or another. When they'd found themselves on their own, no longer able to depend on parents he'd realized what his role had always been meant to be. He was older for a reason.

He stood and stretched before stepping forward to turn the television off. He turned the lamp on their side of the room off and watched them a moment longer in the dim light cast from his lamp.

Ruth shifted and opened her eyes, looking up at him blearily before grinning sleepily and getting comfortable again.

"Goodnight, Henry."

He grinned fondly and reached out to turn the lamp off once he'd gotten comfortable.

"Goodnight, Ruth Anne."

* * *

 **AN2: This chapter is a personal favorite of mine.**


	27. Limitations

"Dipper..." Jesse whispered in the dark, leaning with his elbow propped against the bed. When there was no response he debated turning her lamp on, but it was only four in the morning and he didn't want to blind her either.

"Ruth Anne..." He tried again in a sing song tone and reached out to brush a finger down the bridge of her nose a few times, the way their parents did when they were small.

She finally hummed and her brows drew together, though he couldn't see well in the dark he could imagine what her expression was like. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and finally opened her eyes, just able to make out his silhouette against the window frame.

"What's wrong?" She murmured as the fog of sleep slowly dissipated.

"Nothin's wrong, but Henry and I have to go."

There was a moment of silence as she processed his words, still groggy and she rubbed her eyes as she stretched and finally became coherent. "I thought we didn't have to leave until ten?"

"Got a call last night that the track was changed last minute. The Motor Speedway took a beating in a storm so we're back at Palm Mile."

She sat up quickly, tugging the blanket free from under his elbow as she did so. "What time is it?"

"Not quite four."

Ruth huffed, still unable to see much in the dark and muttered to herself about not having much time to get herself together.

Jesse cut in to her thoughts. "You should stay here."

"What? I'd planned on-"

"That was The Speedway, Palm Mile isn't the same." She knew what that meant. _It's going to be hot and close quarters and you shouldn't risk it._

She was pretty tired anyway, sleep sounded more interesting at the moment. The boys had probably just wanted to let her know beforehand, rather than leave a note and possibly cause her worry when she woke up to find everyone gone. With a yawn, she still forced herself out of bed. She'd at least see them off, go back to bed, and depending on how she felt later she'd get those seedlings she'd started transferred in to the garden.

She squinted as she made it downstairs and in to the kitchen, the only room in the house currently lit, to see the boys had gathered what they'd need on to the table and grinned faintly when Jesse wrinkled his nose in distaste before dumping the glass milk bottle in the sink.

"So much for corn flakes."

"You're a flake." Smokey muttered, not exactly keen on driving all morning. "Get your stuff in the truck so we can go."

Ruth elbowed her way to the sink and rinsed the bottle to be put out when the milk truck went through and glanced over her shoulder when she heard Jesse start laughing.

"It's a Captain Midnight decoder ring!" He tossed it on the table and looked back in to the cereal box. "I'm giving that to Moon."

"Jesse."

"I bet the secret message is to drink your Ovaltine. There's another one."

Ruth bit her lip at the exasperated look on their older brother's face and was a little surprised to see Jesse so animated so early in the morning, but she chalked it up to prerace nerves and watched as he closed up the cereal box and opened the other package.

"A whistle and mini binoculars...in case I get lost in the woods I'm sure..."

"A whistle." Smokey lamented.

Ruth ended their conversation by shoving some snacks in to their hands and instructing them to leave. They said their goodbyes and she laughed at their conversation as they left the back porch.

"You think if I gave these things to Piston he'd see a Piston Cup?" Jesse wondered aloud as he tested the binoculars on their walk to the truck.

She didn't hear Smokey's reply but the look on her twin's face must have meant it was a good one. Closing the door, she turned the lights off in the kitchen, the gray light of predawn giving their home a pleasant yet sleepy feel, as if their home itself were still sleeping and not ready for the day yet either. She considered just sleeping on the couch but her bed was so much more comfortable, and she could draw the curtains before the sun rose and sleep a little later. Hearing the back door open again, she turned around to watch from the bottom of the stairs as Smokey peeked around the door to the table.

He caught sight of her silhouette in the living room. "You seen my jacket?"

"Which one?"

"My brown one."

She shrugged a shoulder and looked about the living room. She'd seen it over their father's old chair last and it wasn't there.

Jesse's voice drifted in from the back porch. "If it's not in the kitchen then you didn't bring it. That's the only room you've been in this morning. Let's go."

" _Now_ he's in a hurry." Smokey rolled his eyes as he walked through each room.

"Of course he is." Ruth yawned.

"Henry!"

"I'm gunna strangle him." Smokey commented to her as he passed.

"Gunna be a long drive for you." She murmured with a smirk as Jesse stepped back in to the house.

"It's not in the truck."

"You looked?"

"No, I used the decoder ring- _yes_ , I looked in the truck. Why would I say it's not in the truck if I hadn't looked?"

Smokey muttered something about not being surprised if that was exactly what he'd done as he refilled his travel thermos.

"How did you drink that much coffee already, _come on._ "

"What's the rush now, Hollywood? Five minutes ago you were the one holding us up over _cereal._ "

"Hey." Jesse started in a mockingly offended tone, leaning against the counter and reaching for an apple. "Breakfast is an important part of-"

"Oh." Smokey interrupted, still looking for the coat. "I am not taking health advice from the kid who eats like a horse."

Jesse only looked toward Ruth, both hands raised in a silent question of _but do I look unhealthy_?

" _Frosted Flakes_ , Jesse..."

He only shrugged a shoulder and watched Smokey with a look of indifference.

"Maybe I didn't bring it..."

"Do you want my binoculars?"

Ruth yawned again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and looked between the two. "I'm going to bed, and you two are wasting daylight."

"Love you too..."

"Goodbye..." She grinned, holding the end of the word out before kissing them both on the cheek and telling them to get a move on. Halfway up the stairs, she heard the truck leave the drive and at the same moment spotted Smokey's jacket on the banister.

How it got there she wasn't sure but she shrugged it on as she continued up the stairs.

* * *

It had been an extremely rough day and the truck didn't pull in to the drive until it was nearly dusk. Adrenaline only pushed one so far and Jesse had dozed off and on most of the drive home. He never truly fell asleep though, knowing Smokey was just as tired and they kept each other alert on the road all afternoon.

It was great to be home, though, and in familiar surroundings. Jesse jumped out of the truck and looked toward the garden as he stretched, knowing Ruth mentioned wanting to get the majority of the work done before the end of the weekend. His brows lowered when he noticed some of the starter packs still sitting in the grass, Ruth usually took everything back in to the barn or at least to the porch. With a tired huff, he turned to look over the Hornet and was checking the tread on the tires when he heard the screen door close as Smokey went in to the house. He'd barely made it to the second tire in his inspections when the door opened and closed again with a bang.

"Unhitch the trailer and get in the truck."

He looked up in confusion, concern taking over at the look on his brother's face. "What, why?"

"Just do it, Jesse."

He looked back at the house, then Smokey, then the garden as he started the crank to get the trailer stabilized to take off the hitch.

Smokey's movements had become rushed, and he kicked the cotter pin that held the latch in place when it refused to budge, cursing lowly.

When they'd finally gotten the trailer separated, a little more haphazardly than usual as it sat at an angle in the driveway, and climbed back in to the truck, Jesse struggled to get a hold of the note that was shoved in his direction and a jolt of fear shivered down his spine when he finally got a chance to look at it, reading it as Smokey finally elaborated as they left the house again.

"Joan took Ruth to Jefferson."

* * *

"Hey." Jesse muttered from the doorway, afraid of disrupting any other patients up and down the hall. Usually patients were in an open area but with concern of Ruth being more susceptible to other illnesses, she was granted a private room.

"Hey." She replied, looking up from her book.

"What'd they say?" His tone was low, reserved, and she could tell he was anxious.

Ruth closed the paperback a nurse had given her and set it on the side table. "They're keeping me overnight. In case it happens again."

"In case what happens?" He hadn't stayed with Smokey to speak to any doctors, as soon as he'd been given a room number he'd left their brother with a man in a white coat.

"I got dizzy again, it wouldn't go away and even after Joan came I still felt strange."

"I saw her in the lobby." He murmured before looking her over and around the room. "How's the breathing."

"I feel like I usually do. Won't be running races any time soon but I feel well."

He motioned for her to scoot over and she did so before commenting when he sat back against the pillows beside her.

"I don't think they allow-"

"I don't really care."

She shoved his shoulder with a smirk.

"What, I don't."

They were silent for a while, the clock on the wall ticking away.

Ruth broke the quiet. "You look and smell horrible."

"Well we came right here once Henry saw Joan's note. I didn't even make it in to the house.

"How'd the race go?" She'd wanted to listen to a radio but they hadn't been able to get one for her room in time.

"Second."

"Good."

He nodded and yawned, leaning back. "Junior only won cause of his decoder ring."

Ruth laughed at that before catching herself and Jesse offered an apologetic look, not wanting to aggravate her weakened lungs.

From the hallway, Smokey watched the pair while listening to the head physician. The man had come to recognize the three over the years and had brought them to the room so he could at least see his sister if not speak to her right away.

"The vertigo could be lack of oxygen to the brain, which can cause any number of symptoms-"

"But she's been feeling better..." He looked away from the twins only briefly enough to comment. She looked well, maybe a little pale but she was always pale in comparison to the boys. She was stronger than in years past.

Dr. Horner nodded slowly, looking in the direction of the twins, not commenting on the fact that Jesse was lying on the hospital bed. "She most likely feels well because she has become used to that deficit, over the years she's likely adjusted. She can no longer compare good days and bad days. It's probably bad days and _worse_ days. What she considers a good day could easily be torture for you or I. Is she fairly sedentary?"

"Usually."

"Has anything changed?"

"No." He shook his head. "I-...well possibly, she's been doing a little more since she feels better."

"She may need to slow down again. Like I said, she no longer can tell the difference. She might think she'd be able to keep up, but her body is failing as a result."

Smokey's mouth formed a thin line and he nodded once, looking through the doorway.

"We're just going to keep her overnight and make sure this isn't going to become a habit."

He looked back toward the doctor briefly and nodded once again before muttering a thanks as the man excused himself to make his rounds for the evening.

What was he supposed to tell them? What did half of what he'd been told even mean? He wasn't going to explain something to the twins that he didn't understand himself. Or maybe he did understand but couldn't bring himself to even consider the notion, let alone verbalize it.

He jumped when he felt someone rest their hand against his back and looked down to see Joan beside him.

"Did they explain anything?"

He only hummed an affirmative and she only nodded.

"How was she when you got to the house?"

"No worse than usual, just lightheaded and fatigued."

He looked away from his siblings and toward her finally. "She wasn't having trouble-"

Joan shook her head. "Her breathing was fine."

"Thank you." He muttered softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She hummed in reply before letting him know she would be going home, she still had her shift to cover at the diner early the next morning but told him to call if anything happened. He'd promised he would and told her to drive carefully before they parted ways.

Stepping in to the room he watched the twins from the position he'd taken in the chair at the bedside and listened to their conversation. He mulled over how to explain what the doctor had told him but was sure Ruth was likely already aware. It was Jesse he wasn't sure how to broach the subject with. It could wait, once they were home tomorrow afternoon and not stuck here. It would have to wait until then, when they were in familiar and comfortable surroundings. This was just a bump in the road, Ruth would have to learn to slow down again, relearn her limitations.

He yawned and looked up at the clock, visiting hours were nearly over anyway and he didn't want to drive all the way home only to come back in the morning. They'd have to ask where the nearest hotel was.

For the time being he just continued to watch his siblings, slouched in the chair with his chin propped on his hand. His own eyelids grew heavy and he dozed in the chair as the room fell silent.


	28. My Track

Ruth was released the next morning and their drive home consisted of retelling the happenings of the race the day before. She wasn't always sure what some of the terms her twin used were, but she always listened with honest interest and enthusiasm. Second place was nothing to be ashamed of in her eyes. She'd always thought he could be one of the worst drivers out there and she'd still be incredibly proud, if only for the guts it took to travel to Michigan on his own in the fall of 1950.

A pang of guilt rushed through her when they pulled in to the drive and she saw the Hornet still loaded on the trailer. As soon as she'd gotten out of the truck she walked straight for the garden, picking up the packs of seedlings that hadn't been planted. With a sigh she wondered if they could be saved, some had wilted in the afternoon sun the day before and the morning heat hadn't done them any favors either. Jesse had come up to stand beside her and muttered something about getting them inside and tended to.

"We can bring 'em back." He said as he collected the tools and other small plant pots that had been left at the garden's edge the day before. "They just need some extra attention."

They spent the afternoon inside. The house was cool compared to the glaring sun and they figured they could move to the porch once evening came but for the time being had taken up their spots at the kitchen table, their parents' empty chairs flanking them on either end.

Ruth was pleased to see that the plants had only needed some water, and within an hour had begun to perk up and not look so close to being pitched over the rock wall out back. She considered the small shoot of a pepper plant carefully and ran her thumb over the delicate leaves as they discussed the situation they found themselves in.

Well, she and Henry did, Jesse only looked between the two from his chair across from them, interjecting now and then while sorting through mail.

"That's what he said, Ruth. You've got to slow down." Smokey had taken the liberty of making lunch that afternoon. All three of them knew their way around a kitchen, as it was a necessity after their mother had died, and he was adamant that Ruth take a few days to recover.

"I take anything any slower Henry and I'll just be sitting here all day."

"If that's what it takes..." Jesse glanced up at her and they locked eyes for a moment.

"But-" She sighed, propped her chin on one hand and muttered a thanks when a plate was slid across the table and stopped in front of her. "I don't need to..."

"Yeah." Smokey thumped Jesse on the back with a hand as he passed to his own seat. "Like this one still doesn't need to keep at it during the week if he expects to win on Sundays."

"We're not talking about me."

"We are now."

They spent most the afternoon jumping from one topic to the next, and when Ruth wanted to get the rest of the seedlings transplanted Jesse took the pack away from her.

"I'll do it."

"You don't even know what they all are, you won't plant them in the right rows."

"I'm not an idiot Ruth, I know what they are...most of them anyway." He smirked.

Ruth watched him in silence for a moment. She knew they had her best interest at heart, she just didn't want to give in. "Jesse."

"Yeah?" He nearly chirped and looked up at her from where he'd set the tray on the table on the back porch as he brushed his hands on his jeans.

"Can I at least-"

He picked the tray back up and held it out to her in a silent offer to allow her to _sit_ with him while he finished the work that needed to be done.

Smokey watched them, Ruth sitting on the rock wall and Jesse kneeling in the grass at the edge of the garden. Standing at the top of the steps, he sighed before grabbing one of the chairs from around the table for Ruth and joined them at the edge of the tilled ground.

* * *

Weeks passed and she'd done as they asked. She'd limited her work to only a few days a week and allowed Jesse to do more to help her when he wasn't working with their older brother. She was also happy to see that Jesse seemed to be getting back in to the swing of things. It wasn't exactly the '52 season, but he was still top ranking, she was sure he'd get the Cup again that year.

She'd fought to be allowed to attend the race that weekend. The three rarely ever shouted at one another but she'd stood her ground that morning, arms crossed and forcing herself not to tap her bare foot against the kitchen tiles.

Jesse had been adamantly against it, home track or not. Did she suddenly have selective memory? There was no shade, no relief from the heat, the only thing going for her was that it had rained a little in the morning. The dust _might_ not be as bad.

Smokey had been against it as well, and he and Jesse had pulled out every play in the book in attempt to keep her home before ultimately giving in.

They'd become so used to seeing her at races more often that forcing her to stay home didn't feel right either.

When they'd unloaded out of the truck and gotten the Hornet taken care of, Smokey disappeared for a few moments before catching up to Ruth and pulling her to the side. His tone was stern as he pointed up toward the bleachers, leaving no room for argument as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"You see that temporary awning up there?"

Ruth only nodded before looking back at him.

"That's where you're going to sit."

"But Henry-"

"I already spoke to the admins, there's more than enough room and you won't be in anyone's way. It's not like they do anything _during_ a race anyway."

"Can't I-?"

"Ruth Anne you argue with me and I'll have no problem taking you home. I'd be back in time for the start of the race."

Her mouth formed a thin line, staring up toward the stands before she nodded silently and muttered a _good luck._

Smokey only watched her weave her way through the crowd until she disappeared and sighed before returning to the line up.

"She listen?" Jesse asked without looking up at him, leaning against the Hornet as he toyed with the racing gloves. He really needed a new pair.

"Yeah." He sighed before turning his full attention on the matter at hand. "Home field advantage. Don't mess this up."

"You make it sound like a baseball game."

"Do you know how long it's been since I've _seen_ a baseball game?" Smokey huffed and crossed his arms. "You know-" He started thoughtfully. "There's a break next week, I'm going to a baseball game."

"That'd be nice actually."

He watched his younger brother a moment before reaching forward and thumping him on the back a few times. "Yeah, but for now keep your head on the now. They're gunning for you."

It was Thomasville, their home track, and while the competition between Jesse and the others never changed one race to the next, they both knew there was an entire group of people that would love to knock The Fabulous Hudson Hornet down a peg or two, and what better place to do it than in his very home. To be able to boast that they'd taken first at _Thomasville Speedway_ was on more than one driver's mind. Jesse glanced up at the line up, tugging his helmet on roughly as the sound for first call came over the old speaker system.

The track was in the middle of being _somewhat_ upgraded. It would never look like Palm Mile or Rocker Arms but they had started some renovations. Jesse couldn't help but think they should have at least waited until _after_ this weekend. There were sections still being worked on, where the wooden rail transitioned in to concrete barriers. Or maybe that was permanent? He wasn't sure. What he was sure of, was that it was going to be a rough afternoon.

* * *

He'd been right. Jesse had never had this much trouble, especially at _Thomasville_. He rolled his neck in the back straight away, having lost positions in dodging a car that had kissed that new concrete barrier. He grumbled to himself how that whole design suddenly seemed like a _bad idea._ It had given him a chance to refuel and vent a little to Smokey while they waited for the car to be taken off the track, though.

They'd watched in silence as Will Asher walked off the track and in to the infield, tossing his helmet to the side as he reached his crew chief.

"At least he's alright..." Jesse had muttered and shrugged a shoulder.

So he found himself sneaking between other cars and picking up a few positions on the turn. Gritting his teeth, he mentally told the others that it was no hard feelings but he wasn't going to lose on his home track. Weaving around River, Lou and then Junior, he was vaguely reminded of pole bending, something he'd only seen once as a kid at a rodeo. Passing Junior, his eyes narrowed and he focused on the pale _Faraday Valley Dealers_ car in front of him.

Jesse had nearly passed him, making the mistake of thinking that it was too easy when he felt the Hornet pull to the right. His eyes widened in surprise, waiting for the rumble of a blown tire to follow before realizing that wasn't the problem at all. Heming had shoved him up the track, and on blind instinct Jesse had kept the Hornet from scraping against that new barrier that Asher had just hit only fifteen or so laps before. He grappled with Heming, brows lowering in concentration as the Hornet pushed the Chrysler a little further down and away from the wall.

He hissed, keeping the Hornet in a straight line, and chanced a look across to make eye contact with Leroy, glowering at the smirk the rookie sent back at him.

Looking back at the track, Jesse eyed the finish line ahead and the changing barrier to their right. His eyes narrowed briefly. Henry was going to kill him, Ruth was going to kill him. Everyone would probably kill him.

Just in front of them there was a section of barrier that looked like it had been a rough transition between the older wooden rails and the new concrete, as if those in charge of these renovations hadn't been sure what to do. The concrete gradually descended back down to the dirt surface of the track toward them. Jesse could complain about how poor a design that was later, but now, he was going to take advantage of it.

Or crash, there was that too...

He narrowed his eyes, muttering lowly. "Not on _my_ track."

It had all happened so quickly he wasn't sure he'd actually done it. The front right tire had caught the improvised ramp just the way he'd hoped it would and he laughed in surprise when the Hornet passed Heming. Two tires on the ground, two on the wall.

He didn't laugh when he landed roughly, though, and swore when all four tires met the ground violently, jostling him about. The frame of the Hornet settled with a harsh bang but when it didn't seem like it was about to completely fall apart he floored it and flew under the checkered flag.

* * *

His face hurt, boy did his face hurt, but he couldn't keep from smiling even as Smokey was busy crawling under the Hornet to make sure there was no lasting damage.

Jesse had become used to attention after races years ago, but this particular day it seemed that _every_ person who'd been present wanted his attention. Drivers stopped to congratulate him, admins, press and civilians stood on the track. A group of people stood around the section of barrier he'd improvised with, trying to figure out _exactly_ how he'd been able to do it.

"Luck...really dumb luck." He smirked when there was a lull in the conversation, standing with Lou, River and Junior.

"They'll probably make that move illegal you know." Junior commented, watching the people on the track.

"As long as they put it in to effect _tomorrow._ " Jesse grinned.

Ruth finally caught up to the group, having had to fight her way through the crowd. She couldn't believe what she'd seen, nor could any of the admins she'd been sitting near. If she hadn't known better she would have thought she was sitting with a bunch of teenage kids with the way they had jumped and shouted in excitement over Jesse's stunt.

While she was thrilled for him, the first thing she did was give him a good slap on the shoulder once she'd rounded the Hornet and stood beside him.

"I can't believe you did that! You could have gotten hurt!"

Jesse at least had the decency to look abashed, though he still smiled. "I knew what I was doing."

"You _just_ said it was dumb-" River was cut off when Jesse threw his helmet at him.

"It was dumb luck." Ruth finished the statement anyway, pinching her brother's arm.

"Ow- look I'm fine, and so is-"

"You're lucky this car is fine." Smokey cut in, brushing his jeans off and looking over the hood while shaking his head. He grinned after a moment and patted his brother's shoulder roughly after joining them on their side of the Hornet. "Doubt anyone will be trying anything with you again, though."

Jesse could only grin wider, he'd already heard enough comments along the lines of _Hudson still owns the track_ to drive that point home.

"You're taking us to that ball game." Smokey commented while looking over the car again. "Payment for that heart attack you caused."

* * *

 **AN: Yeah...no way he's flipping a car in a humanized version lol**


	29. Our Connection

"What are you doing?" Smokey asked, watching as Ruth dug through one of the cabinets above the stove. "We're leaving in twenty minutes..."

"Do you know how hard it is to find canners this time of year?"

"No..." He drew out the word questioningly. "Why can't you use-?"

"Because our _grandmother's_ -" Ruth turned away from the cabinet and held it up for him to inspect, spinning it to show him the bottom. The metal pot was so old and had been used so heavily through three generations that the bottom had become brittle and the metal eroded. Ruth tapped the thinnest point and was suddenly looking at her older brother through the hole created.

Smokey watched the piece hit the floor. "We can see about getting another from The Merch."

"I've been there." She huffed. "And everywhere else in town." She set the canner on the counter and collected the debris from the floor. "Jesse and I both actually, on different occasions..."

Jesse appeared in the doorway suddenly, adding his two cents. "I told her we could order one, we'll have one by the time she'll need it."

"And new jars." Ruth added.

"And new jars." He grinned with a raised brow before throwing his luggage on the table. "But Henry's right, it's time to go."

* * *

"You know...when you said something about a ball game, I assumed you meant _local._ "

"You're just sore because you were forced to pay for plane tickets."

"Speaking of planes. What ever happened to _you_ and _slowing down_?" Jesse pointed to Ruth once they were in their seats, kicking his feet up over the chair in front of him and raising a brow when she only shrugged.

They'd made sure to see about getting their own box, it might have taken away from the kind of experience they were used to having as kids at the ball park, but it was also nice to have the privacy.

"You know, you're probably one of the only Cubs fans south of the Mason Dixon." Jesse muttered, throwing popcorn across Ruth's seat.

"That's _my_ popcorn!" Ruth complained, pulling the bag away from him even as he stole a handful. "You should have gotten your own."

"Can't, I'm broke." He sulked. "All because you all had to come to this game..."

"Save the sob story." Smokey traded popcorn bags with Ruth, reaching behind her seat to flick Jesse's ear, who flinched and missed catching the popcorn he'd thrown up in the air to catch.

"You know, at your next race you should-"

Jesse cut his twin off, sure of where her comment was leading. "I'm at a _baseball game_. Can we worry about racing later?"

"Just say hi, that's all I'm saying."

"Maybe if we ever cross paths, but that never happens so don't get your hopes up."

"You'd be like the golden couple of racing. Just think about it."

He only groaned and sank in to his seat, changing the subject. "I haven't kept up this year, what're the stats."

Ruth was soon lost in a conversation of scores, rankings, who's been pitching, who was benched and at least a dozen names she didn't recognize but she knew enough to keep track of the game in front of them. She remembered at least one game she'd gone to as a child, but as they'd gotten a little older she'd wanted to stay home with their mom. She suddenly wished she'd tagged along with the boys. Jesse might not have remembered too much of their father but at least he could say he'd gone to more games with him.

She could enjoy her afternoon with her brothers, though, and it was nice to get out to do something aside from seeing a race. It was still sports, but she wasn't sitting alone either.

Ruth wasn't sure what she'd do without the two. Jesse might have been younger, if only by less than ten minutes, and she never gave him an inch when the topic came up but he was just as protective as any older brother would be. Henry borderlined on the parental father figure, and that was alright. It gave a feeling of normalcy.

They were a small family, pulled together by loss and hardship that had forced them to grow up overnight. She couldn't relate to any of the girls she once attended school with. Many of them still dependent on their parents. Or if they weren't still living on their parents' money, they were off getting married.

She was content with her brothers for the time being.

Smokey checked in on them at the house on an almost daily basis. Glancing up at him briefly, she took in his profile and compared him to what she remembered of their father. He wasn't a dead ringer, but he had their father's height and build. He also had their father's demanding tone, he didn't use it often but when he did she knew to watch her step. He was their protector and biggest supporter. Ruth knew she could always go to him, no matter the problem.

Jesse on the other hand _was_ a dead ringer for their father, though he lacked the build. He was her best friend, her confidante. Ruth loved her brothers equally, and while she knew she could go to Henry for anything, Jesse never needed an explanation. She knew some people called it a _twin connection,_ and connection or not, she knew there were things that Jesse would always just know about her. The same way she just seemed to know things about him.

She sunk in to her seat comfortably, considering both the boys and getting caught by each of them in turn. She'd only shake her head with a faint smile when asked if something was wrong and continued with her musing as the game continued below.

The Chicago Cubs won against the St. Louis Cardinals, five to three. If the boys hadn't still been in a fantastic mood over the previous weekend's win at Thomasville, they certainly were with the midweek ball game they'd splurged on and traveled to Missouri for. Ruth wouldn't have cared who won either way, she'd just enjoyed seeing the game.

* * *

"You're sure you're going to be alright?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"We can call-"

"Hollywood."

He hummed distractedly, gathering his helmet under his arm and grumbling over the fact that his new gloves hadn't come in yet. He'd ordered them right after Thomasville and nearly a month later was still waiting.

Ruth planted herself in front of him, blocking his path from the living room to the kitchen.

Jesse paused and looked up at her, searching her face with a questioning look.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder and breathing the smell of his shirt. Again, she was reminded of their dad.

He set the helmet to the side, letting it bounce on the couch cushion and resting his now free hand against the back of her head. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah." She nodded, leaning back only far enough to look up at him. "I just haven't done this in a while."

She was right, Jesse realized, and he hugged her carefully, afraid of doing anything that could possibly hurt her.

Ruth loved being a twin, she loved being his twin. She was sure it wasn't like this for all sets of twins, triplets, whatever number was possible, but the bond between them was comforting, something she couldn't put in to words if asked to explain but it was there and it was _part_ of her. She'd never voiced those thoughts, but she didn't need to. Even as Jesse stepped back and retrieved his helmet, she knew he'd always felt the same. She could see it. She could _feel_ it.

"You _call Joan_ if there's any kind of problem, alright?" His tone was soft, yet serious.

She nodded as he passed. "Good luck."

* * *

It was hot and miserable when Jesse had returned home. Smokey hadn't been able to stay, and the two had unloaded the Hornet quickly before he'd left the house again. Only offering a quick greeting to Ruth through the screen door before heading out.

She was worried for them both, and watched Jesse as he flung the racing jacket on the table. Red faced and exhausted, he'd taken the glass of water she'd offered and questioned her on her own well being even as she fussed over him.

"They shouldn't have you all out on the track when it's like this. Someone's going to end up with heatstroke." She muttered seriously.

"We can only hope it's Piston."

"That's a horrible thing to wish on anyone, Jesse Aaron."

She nodded as he muttered an apology, refilling the glass for him.

"You alright?"

Ruth only continued to nod. "Trying to stay hydrated, breathing is okay..."

"Light headed?" He asked with raised brows, holding the glass to his mouth.

"Little." She cut him off before he could say anything. "I was going to let you get a shower, because you smell, and then take a cold one. They seem to help."

"If you're sure..."

"Don't look at me like that, I'm fine."

Jesse only set the glass on the table behind him with a clank, making a face at the sound before straightening. "Alright, but you take it easy. Today's worse than anyone was expecting."

She nodded, collecting the glass and setting it in the sink.

Jesse had showered quickly and passed out on his bed shortly after turning the floor fan on. He'd turned it directly toward the bed, which usually gave him a sore throat the next morning but he was willing to trade one form of discomfort for another.

It was dark when he finally stirred, stretching slowly and brushing short hair out of his face when the floor fan ruffled it gently.

"Jesse!"

His room was suddenly flooded with light and he squinted, shielding his eyes with a hand as he was jarred awake. "Huh-...what's the matter?"

It was her coughing that cut through the fog of sleep. Sitting up quickly, Jesse forced his eyes to focus as they adjusted to the light to see Ruth standing in the doorway to his room, one hand holding the door frame as a harsh barking cough ripped through her small frame. He jumped off the bed, standing in front of her and willing his own heart to slow down. This wasn't something their little breathing tricks could take care of.

He forced her attention on him and held a hand against her cheek. "Look at me-look at me, Ruth Anne-"

She met his eyes and held back a cough.

"Don't fight so hard- slow down-"

There wasn't time to sit around and think over their options and Jesse tried to remember exactly where he'd left his keys even as they rushed down the steps. He realized the light in his room was still on but he couldn't be bothered with that at the moment. Ruth was silent as he'd gotten her to the car, turning back inside and sprinting through the house for the keys he'd left on the counter and ripping the phone off the wall, standing in the dark as the operator jokingly asked if he knew what time it was.

"Yes I know what time it is-" He hissed and the woman on the line became serious. "I don't have time for you to connect me through, I need you to relay a message."

He could tell the woman was scrambling for paper even as he rattled off the number. "Tell Henry to meet the twins at Jefferson." He hung up before the woman could reply, rushing out the door and jumping down the steps of the porch. He nearly hit the ground, foot slipping as he jumped up and he continued running to the Hornet.

Ruth wasn't breathing as heavily and he wondered vaguely if the cooler air outside was the reason as he backed toward the barn and tore out of the drive, kicking gravel and flying on to the main road before even getting the headlights turned on. He let go of the gear shift when Ruth reached for his hand and muttered lowly. "We're goin', Dipper. We're goin'..."

Every stop sign, every car in front of them, and every sharp turn caused him to grit his teeth. Anything that forced him to put his foot on the brake only heightened his anxiety and he constantly glanced across to the passenger seat. Barely able to see his twin through the dark, he could at least hear her. He'd floor it whenever he had the chance, working his way up through the gears and driving like he never had before. The engine of the Hornet whined as he forced it in to the red before shifting, getting every last bit of horsepower he could manage, silently willing it to hold out until they reached Jefferson. The last thing they needed was a blown tire, or worse, an engine.

"You alright?"

"Mmhmm..."

His senses screamed at him, fear coursing through him and causing his heart to pound painfully within his chest, but he knew it was nothing compared to how Ruth must have felt. Her silence was frightening, but any time she did try to speak, he'd shush her and tell her to concentrate on breathing.

They flew down the highway and Jesse ignored any indignant car horns from other late night drivers he passed as if he were on the dirt track, weaving in and around trucks, through the passing lanes and even dropping on to the shoulder of the road once or twice. If there was one thing he knew, it was driving, and he was going to use every trick in the book to get Ruth to the hospital.

He'd made the forty-five minute drive in less than half an hour. He wasn't sure how they hadn't been pulled over by a cop.

* * *

Smokey jumped out of the truck and jogged across the parking lot, unsurprised to see the figure he'd spotted as he pulled in to the lot was Jesse, pacing uncertainly under the streetlight at the emergency entrance.

"What the hell happened?"

"I dunno- she just...she just barged in to my room yelling and unable to breathe-"

Smokey glanced up at the building, at least they were there and Ruth could be tended to. He put his attention on Jesse, who stared out over the lot before looking back at him. The streetlight above them revealed what Jesse might have been able to hide in daylight. His jaw was set anxiously, eyes wide and frantic and barely holding the tears back that threatened to fall, his hands trembled and what could have been passed off as a shiver in the cool night air, Smokey knew was nervous energy that was screaming to escape.

He grabbed him by the shoulders quickly. "Look at me-Jesse, look at me." He murmured, not realizing Jesse had said nearly those exact words less than an hour ago.

"You got her here, and that's what matters. Everything's gunna be fine."

Jesse only glanced once toward the building, in to the orange lights of the main area of the hospital, before looking back to meet his older brother's eyes.

Smokey studied him a moment longer before patting his cheek with a hand, gripping his shoulder comfortingly with the other. "C'mon." He coaxed. "Let's go inside."


	30. Loosened

Ruth had received three treatments in a tank respirator in one week and while they seemed to be out of immediate danger, she wasn't permitted to go home.

Her brothers had taken residence in the local hotel. Jesse had been uncomfortable in doing so, but Ruth insisted he continue to race.

"What else am I going to do Sunday afternoons? Stare at the walls? If you race at least I'll have something to listen to."

So the Hornet remained on the trailer throughout the week. The owner of the hotel they'd booked in the middle of the night when Ruth was admitted had been more than accommodating. An elderly widow keeping her late husband's business going had allowed them to house the Hornet in the garage connected to the small space she used as the check in office. Not exactly a race expert or even much of a fan, she still recognized the Hudson with the infamous paint job through the large windows.

"I'm sure you won't want the neighborhood bothering your car while you're away during the day, hmm?" She had smiled in a maternal fashion, pressing a key ring to the garage in to Smokey's hand when they had let her know it could be an extended stay.

* * *

Jesse glowered at the girl who'd been left behind by one of the head nurses. Slouched in one of the two chairs beside Ruth's bed, he watched in silence as the girl in her candy stripe pinafore, and perfectly styled hair, continually traded one of Ruth's wrists for the other, unable to get a good place to take her pulse. She shifted from one foot to the other, smiling nervously at Ruth and tried again before finally stepping back and picking distractedly at a hang nail on her right thumb.

"I'm sorry, this is just supposed to be practice anyway..." The girl, who could only have been high school age, looked toward Jesse. "Could I possibly-?"

He only let his arm fall palm up on the arm of the chair, ignoring the smirk Ruth sent his direction. It had been obvious as soon as the candy striper had entered the room that she was absolutely smitten with him, knowing exactly who he was.

Jesse waited as patiently as possible, staring up at the clock, but could tell the girl was still unable to take a pulse. She excused herself in quiet embarrassment before leaving the room, muttering something about needing the nurse to show her again.

"What are you doing?" Ruth asked.

"Sixteen times four is sixty-four. That's about right, right?"

"The math or your pulse."

"I know the math's right." He grabbed her hand and looked up at the clock again.

"What-"

"Shush."

She raised a brow and watched in silence, eyeing him expectantly when he let her wrist go again. "What is it?"

"Fifty-two."

"Oh I'm close to your number..."

"You should really leave the humor to someone else." He smirked, holding a hand up to protect himself against the box of tissues she threw at him.

Smokey hesitated from where he'd stopped just inside the doorway, setting the cup of orange juice he'd been given aside with a resigned sigh. "Could you both _please_ refrain from bringing this place down while we're here."

Ruth only took the food he offered her with a quiet thanks while Jesse leaned haphazardly out of his chair to retrieve the box that had slid across the floor.

"If a box of tissues brings this place to the ground we have problems."

Smokey only raised a brow at him in warning from where he stood on the other side of Ruth's hospital bed. He reached back to the side table and tossed a carton of Yoohoo across at Jesse.

"Ow- I wasn't even looking." He rubbed at his nose indignantly, checking his fingers for any sign of blood before turning his attention back on the carton.

"Reflexes're first to go."

" _I wasn't looking_."

"Not my fault." Smokey shrugged a shoulder.

"You're right, Hollywood." Ruth glanced up from peeling the orange she held, offering a slice to her older brother silently.

" 'bout what?"

"I should leave the humor to someone else, but it should be him."

"Funny..." Jesse drew the word out sarcastically, his attention still on trying to get the straw to work. "You dented this and now I can't-"

"I didn't dent anything." Smokey replied. "That was you're big head."

* * *

The group stood in their usual circle before a race, a little more subdued and not up to their usual prerace antics. Junior bounced his helmet against his knee. "So you've been coming to the races straight from Jefferson Memorial?"

"More or less..." Jesse leaned against the Hornet and looked over the decals. "We stop at the house on our way through."

His gloves had finally been delivered and he slapped them against his legs a few times to work out some of the stiffness.

"Have you gotten much sleep?" Lou asked.

"Much as we can." Jesse glanced up and squinted against the afternoon sun. In their rush to get the trailer hitched that morning he'd forgotten his sunglasses in the room.

"Should you be racing?"

"I was asked to."

It was the only answer they figured they'd be getting as Jesse tugged his helmet on and looked out toward the track.

Emily stood impatiently at the edge of the track as Bea spoke to her brother. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sighed and looked out over the line up to see that Will Asher's car had finally made it back to the track. She knew he wasn't real happy with the fact that he'd missed a few races for repairs, someone on his team had failed to file for withdraws in time and he'd lost his chance at the '53 Cup. Not that she really thought he would have won, Hudson was still leading and that didn't look like it would be changing any time soon. She looked toward the front of the field and quickly spotted the familiar jacket and watched the group in silence.

They were usually the rowdy ones, or the _rowdier_ ones, and she was surprised to see them standing together quietly. Her eye narrowed briefly when she saw the #51 team step away from the group.

Knowing first call would sound at any moment, Smokey pulled Jesse aside to stand behind the Hornet.

"You gunna be alright?"

Jesse only nodded, bracing his hands on his sides and sighing before he looked back up at him.

Smokey didn't like the idea of Jesse driving, knowing they both were distracted and the last thing on their minds was a four-hundred lap race. He'd informed the head nurse of how to get in touch with them in case of an emergency, though, and he knew that should any of the admins in the press box get a call, they'd make sure to inform them.

"I just-..." Jesse looked away briefly.

"Yeah." Smokey put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to meet his eyes. "A win isn't necessary, you know that."

He only nodded.

"Keep it together out there, we'll be back to see her this evening."

* * *

"Look what we have." Jesse grinned, a bit of a spring in his step as they entered their sister's room again.

Smokey set the flowers to the side, knowing that if they had been causing both himself and Jesse to sneeze in the truck, then they probably should be kept at some distance at least.

Ruth rubbed her eyes and yawned, taking a moment to become alert before she grinned at the sight of the flower vases.

"This one is from us, and that one is from Lou, River and Moon."

She sat up straighter and held a hand out, murmuring something about seeing them, to which neither of the boys were keen on allowing.

"Henry." Her tone hardened and she raised a brow, only grinning again when he gave in.

She kept a hold on the bouquet her brothers had given her, blinking a few tears away over the fact that while she'd always complained, jokingly at least, that she was stuck with some rough and tumble boys, they weren't so crass as to not know what her favorite flowers were. Sure, the flowers the others had sent were nice, but they weren't Lilacs, Forget Me Nots, and Lily of the Valley.

Which couldn't have been real easy to come by, the lily's weren't exactly in season anymore.

She grinned, holding them protectively and admiring the color and delicate petals a moment before setting the vase on the side table.

Looking back up at the two, she realized Jesse was still wearing his racing jacket, they must have been in a hurry that afternoon. He pulled one of his hands from his pocket and held out a green pepper for her to take.

Ruth tilted her head and looked questioningly between the two.

"From the garden."

"Everything is already coming in."

"But-" Her brows lowered. "We got everything in so late this year..."

Jesse shrugged a shoulder, taking the chair he'd silently claimed over a week ago. "Some of those seedlings weren't exactly _seedlings_ anymore, though."

"True." She hummed, looking over the pepper, it wasn't large by any means, but it was definitely ripe. She set it on the table as well and changed the subject. "I listened to the race this afternoon."

The boys spent as much time with her during the day as they were allowed, at times being asked to go to the waiting areas while Ruth was taken for treatment, but for the most part were at Jefferson Memorial as long as visiting hours permitted. After she received a treatment, Jesse would watch as they wheeled the enormous respirator out of the room and sink in to the chair again. Ruth was usually asleep, something that was to be expected and as the doctors had explained _a good sign_.

That was all they ever said though, and Jesse caught himself watching in silence once more as Dr. Horner read over the clipboard in his hand. He said something to Henry, but what Jesse hadn't been paying close enough attention to know. As soon as the man was gone, Jesse leaned forward and grabbed the clipboard from the end of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Smokey warned, unable to move as Ruth was sleeping against his shoulder.

"Looking."

Jesse could tell he wasn't thrilled with him but when Henry didn't say anything further he flipped through the chart. Some of it was just copied information, most of it was illegible, and what was legible was only numbers and that told him nothing.

He breathed deeply through his nose and returned the clipboard to the peg at the end of the bed. Turning back toward his chair he glanced up when his brother caught his attention and motioned him forward.

"C'mon."

"I don't think..."

"The guy next door is nearly five of us, you're not going to break the bed."

He knew Jesse wasn't sleeping, but he only knew because _he_ wasn't sleeping either. The hotel they were in was comfortable and the accommodations decent, and there was no offense meant toward the woman who was being so generous in taking care of them, but it was impossible to sleep. Knowing Ruth wasn't with them had him waking up over the slightest sounds. Cars starting a few spaces down from their door, travelers talking quietly as they passed the window. Last night it was just the streetlight filtering through the curtain that had caused him to open his eyes.

He hoped that maybe being near her would bring relief to both of them, and if someone from the hospital felt the need to say something he'd take care of it.

He watched in silence as Jesse shrugged off his jacket finally and leaned back against the over stuffed pillows they had supporting Ruth's back.

He didn't feel like a brother anymore, only a few months ago he'd mused over the realization that he was the older brother for a reason.

Now he was a father.

A twenty-seven year old father to twenty-two year old kids.

He scrubbed a hand over his face in exhaustion and looked out the window, that was a ridiculous thought.

True, though.

Looking back toward them he paused, unsure if Jesse was already asleep or only had his eyes closed. He put his attention on Ruth then and the corner of his mouth turned up in a painful smile.

The rose between the thorns was what their father had teased, but how right he was. Little Dipper, Ruth Anne, the one he had promised to watch out for. The one who helped him keep Jesse in line, not that that was a difficult task but still...

The one who'd always told him she could do it herself growing up to only ask for his help sheepishly moments later. She was his biggest supporter when he'd opened the garage at all of eighteen years old, and the one who he'd had some very serious and heartfelt conversations with concerning the risky move in joining Piston Cup.

She never doubted them, never questioned them, she'd always offered her quiet but intense support in anything they did, offering advice and council when needed and always, _always_ , ready to pick them up when they needed it.

He was letting her down.

He felt helpless, watching her struggle and unable to make things right, unable to bear her burdens or even attempt to remedy them.

The mechanics of a car were not like the mechanics of the body.

He looked away again suddenly, in to the blinding light of the Saturday afternoon sun through the window and held his fist against his mouth.

He couldn't break, the moment he slipped an inch the twins would fall apart. Jesse needed him, _Ruth_ needed him and he couldn't afford to fail them any more than he already was. They needed him to keep them upright.

The others had planned to visit some time the next week, Joan had been there a few times, but he wasn't sure if such a large amount of people was the best idea. He guessed they'd have to wait and see.

Looking way from the window he finally studied his siblings at his side in silence and was reminded of when they were small, barely two or three if they were lucky. They'd always reminded the family of a pair of kittens, always using the other as a pillow until their chubby arms and legs had begun to lengthen as they grew.

No matter how old they grew, he'd always see them as kids.

He really was a father, wasn't he.

He watched them more closely, and what he'd once found comforting, he suddenly grew fearful of. He'd always noticed how the twins seemed unified, even in sleep, but he now grew wary. Jesse, for the first time in a week, slept peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly until he shifted to face the wall. Ruth continued to sleep against him, where he'd carefully put an arm around her and her breath was shallow, to the point that he stopped to watch her to make sure she _was_ still breathing.

He sighed and swiped a single tear away roughly.


	31. and Severed

**AN: Skip if you want.**

* * *

In two days they would have been there a month.

The boys had traded off in their turns sitting with Ruth on the bed, making sure she was comfortable and that her needs were being met. Ruth's spirits had remained high through her stay, even with the incredible amount of treatments she'd undergone and the fact that she was constantly being poked and prodded at. She didn't really feel any better. She felt _okay_ and she knew her strength wasn't returning very quickly, if even at all, but she was content. It was her brothers she was concerned for, not herself. None of them had addressed what they were all thinking. What they all knew.

She let her back sink in to the pillows behind her and looked up toward her twin, who sat with a leg propped over the arm of his chair while he messed with the dial of the radio on the stand.

"Are you afraid of death?"

The question took him by surprise and he hesitated before he sat up straighter. "Am I afraid of death?"

She nodded faintly, making a quiet sound of affirmation.

Jesse only shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well-" He wasn't interested in this topic of conversation. "I just never have I guess. I know-"

He met her eyes briefly and forced back a wave of fear. Looking away he tried to get a handle on it but barely kept himself in check. He looked back at her with lowered brows, tears welling suddenly in the corners of his eyes.

"Why can't you accept this? I'm ok."

He exhaled harshly, pain welling up in his chest when his lungs refused to pull in air. He set his jaw defiantly and inclined his head ever so slightly in an attempt to keep the tears from falling even as he quirked his mouth in to a painful smile. "It's different when it's you."

Jesse took a shaky breath and continued. "Because I don't want to be left alone, Ruth. Because I'd do anything for us to switch places- because-" His voice cracked and he looked at her pleadingly, he just wanted her to understand.

She actually grinned at that, she had the nerve to smile as they discussed the fact that she may not leave that hospital ever again.

"You wouldn't be alone."

"Ruth Anne."

"The only way you'd end up alone, Jesse Aaron-"

"Ruth."

"-is if you pushed everyone away yourself."

" _Stop_."

He stood up quickly, jumping up out of the chair in a burst of energy and began pacing. "Just-..." He ran a hand through his hair and pinched the back of his neck, staring at the far wall and glaring as if it had offended him personally.

Ruth pursed her lips in to a thin line, eyeing him silently. Her voice was small, frail, when she finally spoke again. "Jesse."

He turned back toward the bed and they stared at each other for a moment before he returned to her side. Smoothing out a spot on the edge of the bed he sat carefully and murmured in response. "Ruth."

She sat upright and reached out to wrap her arms around his neck, clinging to him and burying her face against his shoulder. Her fingers ached as she gripped the back of his light cotton shirt. Unable to find the words to speak, she bit her lip as tears spilled over and she hugged him tighter, knowing there was no way she'd be capable of causing him any kind of discomfort. She didn't have the strength, even if she were in the prime of health she'd never be able to hurt him.

Jesse had returned her embrace carefully but when she'd begun to cry he'd hugged her tighter, holding off his own tears as long as possible until he could no longer fight it, chest burning as he'd held his breath and heart pounding in his ears. He tightened his hold on her protectively, as if that alone could keep her with him, his sister, his twin, his confidante, best friend, voice of reason, the one he'd first shared his idea of racing with, the one who'd forced him to be patient and reminded him that everything happened for a reason and that if it was meant to be it would fall in to place.

Ruth was the other half to their whole, the reserved calm to his brash forwardness, the one who loved the cold, the one to hesitate when he wanted to jump ahead. She was morning sun in spring and flowers around the garden, sugar cookies at Christmas and chocolate fudge at Easter, tea on the back porch and s'mores on the beach...

He tightened his hold on her further, letting her rest against him and putting a hand against the back of her head. He closed his eyes as his brow furrowed and he clenched his jaw.

 _Please don't leave. Stay with us. Stay with me_.

She was the one to laugh with when no one else was around, to reminisce over their childhood late at night and figure out exactly who's memories were who's. _"I never did that it must have been you." "Well you're the one who told me about it so it couldn't have been me."_

She scolded him for always eating even while stealing his food, complaining that he was lazy yet seeking his protection against horseshoe crabs.

They were two halves of a whole, one completing the other and he wasn't ready to face the world on his own.

Jesse rubbed a hand over her back, attempting to sooth her even as his own breath hitched painfully before biting back a strangled laugh, barely hearing her muttered remark as she spoke in to his shoulder.

She reached up to dry his eyes when they'd finally let go of each other and smiled painfully when he allowed her to. He huffed faintly, looked away and used the heel of his hand to do so again himself once she'd leaned back against the pillows. Seeing that she was still crying, he reached forward carefully and dried her pale cheeks with his thumbs, cupping her face in his hands and meeting her eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He kissed her brow, just between the eyes, and stood slowly. Suddenly unsure what to do with himself he stood with his hands in his back pockets and took a deep breath.

She changed the subject, needing to after that moment. "Henry'll be back with food in a little bit."

"I'm not really hungry..."

She swatted his stomach playfully with the back of her hand. "You'll waste away to nothing otherwise."

Jesse only shook his head with a fond look before relenting.

* * *

"Where's the race tomorrow?"

Jesse only groaned and Ruth looked toward Smokey when she realized her twin obviously didn't know.

"Rustbelt."

Her brows lowered. "What time will you have to leave?"

"Early." Smokey pinched the bridge of his nose

 **"** Should you go get some sleep?"

"We'll be fine." He grinned faintly before his expression sobered again, watching in the dim light of the hospital room as Jesse brushed their sister's hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek.

" 'm gunna go for a walk." He muttered quietly. Sitting in that little room all day had caused his legs to cramp up and he needed the air.

Ruth murmured in reply before yawning and he met his brother's eyes briefly, silently communicating that he wouldn't be long. Smokey nodded, chin rested on his hand as he turned his attention back to Ruth.

The hospital was quiet, visiting hours had ended some time ago but they'd been permitted to stay because they hadn't been in the way and made sure to give other patients their space. Jesse was sure it was also because the doctors felt sorry for them, usually he'd be offended but at this point he'd take what he could get, he wasn't going to be too proud, Fabulous Hudson Hornet or not.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply upon exiting the building, the cool breeze ruffling his hair was a far cry from the stuffy hallways and patients' rooms. He wondered vaguely if they should bring Ruth outside in a chair, it might do her some good.

Wishful thinking maybe.

The moon was nearly full, casting his surroundings in silver light that made him think of late nights at the homestead. What he wouldn't give to be staring out across the yard at a garden that needed weeding and listening to both his siblings get on his case because he'd said he would do it a week ago.

Here there was nothing but cement sidewalks, brick buildings, and illness.

With a huff he started for the corner, walking around the block a few times and on his second pass around the main entrance he glanced up to see if he could figure out which room was Ruth's. She was on the second floor, that's all he knew, toward the end of the hall. Third from the right maybe? Or maybe the second...

He'd wanted to give his siblings some time on their own. He'd felt like he was taking most of Ruth's time and that wasn't fair to Henry. He was just as concerned, if not more so and Jesse knew he was doing everything he could for their sake, running himself ragged to juggle their time between the track and the hospital. Making sure they were where they needed to be, were eating, and focused on whatever task at hand. It wasn't fair to him but Jesse didn't know how to broach the subject. He'd figure something out and bring it up when they got back to the hotel later that night, or maybe on the drive to Rustbelt in the morning.

For the time being he found an empty bench that looked across at the small pond in the park behind the hospital and watched the reflection of the moon ripple and dance across the water. Ruth would like that spot.

* * *

Henry hadn't had to look far to find Jesse. The first place he'd checked was exactly where his younger brother was. Standing in the doorway to the little empty room, he looked over the hospital chapel briefly, taking in the worn wooden floors and the high back pews. He vaguely wondered just how many people had walked over those floors, thousands if the wear patterns were anything to go by.

He watched Jesse silently for a few moments and took in the resolute yet tired slope of his shoulders. Jesse was a strong kid, and he didn't want to take that away from him.

Taking a step forward he finally spoke quietly, voice barely above a whisper as he said his brother's name.

Jesse could have suffered whiplash for as quickly as he looked back over his shoulder, watching Henry as he walked up the aisle slowly.

Henry slid in to the pew to sit beside him, looking over his brother's face, so much like their sister's with his dark hair, and blue eyes that watched him expectantly. He hesitated a moment before muttering quietly.

"It's over, Jesse. She's gone..."

Jesse leaned back away from him as if he'd been slapped, blinking once before looking toward the front of the room. Barely able to process what he'd just heard, he leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees before scrubbing his hands over his face, raking his fingers through his hair and holding the back of his neck.

If he could just hold the tears back. If he could hold the tears back then maybe he hadn't heard, and if he hadn't heard then maybe Henry hadn't really spoken. If Henry hadn't spoken then maybe it wasn't true.

It couldn't be true. They couldn't have lost Ruth too.

Henry would never lie to him, though.

This was a nightmare and he was ready to wake up.

Henry sighed lowly and put a hand against Jesse's back, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt the way their father used to when they were upset before gripping his shoulder comfortingly. "Come on kid, breathe."

He swallowed thickly at the wrenching sob that finally ripped through his brother's chest as Jesse dug the heels of his hands in to his eyes.

Jesse couldn't breathe, his chest burned and his head ached. His eyes stung and his stomach flipped and twisted painfully. He barely registered what his brother said when he spoke again.

His brother, the only one left, two of the three Hudson kids. Weren't they something.

"I have to take care of some things...do you want to stay-"

Jesse only shook his head, gasping and swallowing painfully as he stood up, following Henry in daze back through the hallways up to the second floor.

He stopped abruptly before they reached the door to the room, and only shook his head quickly when Henry glanced back at him questioningly. Jesse stared sidelong at the stained wooden trim of the door as if it were a snake coiling to strike at him, his back pressed against the wall. He vaguely realized that Dr. Horner, a nurse and Henry were speaking in low tones and it struck him suddenly that just because Ruth was gone didn't mean there weren't legalities that needed to be addressed. Jesse swallowed thickly, looking away from the room number to put his attention on the wall across from him before pinching the bridge of his nose, letting his head fall so his chin rested against his chest. He jumped when the doctor patted his shoulder comfortingly as he passed, and made eye contact briefly with the candy striper who'd been working on that floor the last few weeks.

It was after midnight, she must have been older than he originally thought.

Henry joined him in the hall, passing him his racing jacket and turning his shoulder gently toward the stairwell. They walked in silence to the truck and Jesse didn't reply when he started the pickup and commented that he wanted to get their stuff and go home. He didn't explain why, but he figured Jesse would want to be in familiar surroundings as much as he did in that moment.

They shoved their clothes in to the small luggage bags in silence and Henry paused, taking a deep breath as he watched Jesse sling his duffel bag of racing gear over his shoulder. Swearing lowly he realized the Hornet was still stowed away and threw his things in the back of the truck before jumping in to back up to the garage. He left Jesse standing in the doorway, his arms filled with personal belongings, and instead of complaining, Jesse only trudged across the parking lot and threw his things in the back before helping get the trailer hitched.

Henry left a note, along with the keys and a few days worth of pay on the dresser of the room they'd used before closing the door and leaving the hotel. The full moon glinted off the whitewalls and painted lettering on the Hornet as they started back home.

They were silent the entire drive, taking a little longer as Henry made sure to take it easier on the highway. It was a far cry from Jesse's frantic driving a month ago. Once parked in the drive nearly an hour later, he turned the ignition and held the key in his hand while staring out the front windshield. His mouth formed a thin line before he went to speak but he cut himself off when he looked toward Jesse.

Jesse was staring at the garden, in the moonlight it was obvious that a number of the plants needed to be tended to. The whole garden needed a good weeding and the lawn should be mowed.

"Hey." He murmured, turning toward Jesse and reaching across the empty space between them to grab his shoulder. He saw the exact moment the dam broke. "Easy-"

"I-..." Jesse leaned forward again, the way he had in the hospital chapel as he sobbed. "I wasn't even there- Henry, I wasn't there-"

What was he supposed to say, it's ok? Jesse wouldn't appreciate that and he certainly didn't need it. Henry looked out toward the garden even as he put his arms around the only immediate family member he had left and rubbed his hand over his back again. He'd told Ruth a few times, nearly frantic, that he'd find Jesse, but she'd been ok with it. "She didn't want to put you through that..."

Jesse only cried harder, so maybe he hadn't entirely let her down but he'd let Henry down by forcing him in to that situation. "I'm sorry-"

"Hey." He said seriously, leaning forward himself to see his brother's face. "You've done nothing wrong. You hear me?"

"I just want her back."

Henry clenched his jaw and looked back out the front windshield, his own tears finally falling.

He had no idea what time it was when they finally got out of the truck, but the air outside was much cooler than within. It had been a long time since he'd played the comforting older brother but he had no shame in hugging Jesse tightly before he wandered up the stairs.

Physically, mentally and emotionally drained, Jesse wandered down the hall toward his room, pausing only briefly in front of his twin's room to pull the door closed and lingering a moment before continuing on.

Henry sat in the old recliner in the living room, staring at where the coffee table should be, unable to see it in the dark, his movements were automatic as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the end table and fished for a lighter. The flame from the Zippo lit his face briefly before he snapped it shut with a metallic clink and the room fell in to darkness again. The only light being the orange ember at the end of his cigarette.


	32. It Only Hurts

**AN: If you listen to Good Grief by Bastille, that's basically Jesse's mindset and will be for a while.**

* * *

He woke with a start, panicking over the fact that the sun was shining brightly and obviously had been for some time. His initial thoughts were that he'd overslept and they were going to miss the race and it took him a moment to realize they weren't in the hotel room. He was home and he wasn't going to the race.

His stomach plummeted and even though he was still lying flat on his back he felt like the floor had been ripped from under his feet. He rubbed his still sore eyes with the heels of his hands and held his breath until the wave of nausea subsided.

He wasn't interested in racing, and he wasn't concerned if his absence ruined his chances at that year's Cup.

The birds sang cheerfully outside his window and he closed his eyes again as the sun crept across the floor and warmed the spot he dozed in. It was comfortable, until he was suddenly reminded of years ago just after their mother had died, when Ruth had forced him to make room without asking permission first and had taken up half the bed, breaking their melancholy silence with her complaining that his room was better because he got more sun.

It was that thought that forced him out of bed. Jesse wasn't sure how long he lay there but when he finally made an attempt to go downstairs the kitchen clock read 10:37. Smokey was seated at the table and they only met eyes briefly as Jesse passed to get a mug out of the cabinet. He promptly dropped it when he'd turned around, startled by Joan's appearance through the doorway to the hall, causing everyone to jump as the coffee cup shattered and the harsh sound of ceramic meeting the hard floor cut violently through the silence. Jesse exhaled shakily, steadying himself before kneeling to pick up the pieces that had scattered.

Joan had reached forward to do the same, apologizing softly as she offered to take care of it.

"No, it's ok. It's my fault." Jesse muttered as he stacked the larger pieces together and used them as a bowl of sorts for the smaller shards.

She was silent but still returned with the hand broom and dustpan to take care of whatever was left.

He only glanced up at her briefly before going to stand. She'd obviously cried more than once that morning and Jesse's vision blurred as he tossed the mug away, blinking rapidly in an attempt to rid himself of those ever present tears. He cleared his throat, whether he really needed to or it was an attempt to hide his upset, even he was unsure.

He opened the cabinet for another cup, only to close it again after a pause as he changed his mind and instead grabbed a glass from beside the sink and going for water instead of coffee. Leaving the kitchen for the back porch, his intention had been to sit at the table but after twenty minutes he'd become fidgety. What was he supposed to do? Focusing on the mundane seemed disrespectful somehow but just sitting around allowed his thoughts to wander _far_ too much. His gaze raked over the yard before it fell on the truck and trailer rig. His knee stopped bouncing long enough for him to make a decision and he jumped up, making a beeline for the barn and collecting whatever he'd need.

Jesse spent the morning cleaning out the Hornet. In the last weeks he'd been driving, he'd had no time to clear away the dust and grime that tended to collect. He put all his attention in wiping down the dash, cleaning out the air vents and the _Hudson_ logo above the radio. He wiped down the seats, cleaned up the gear shift and steering wheel, and threw the floor mats out in to the grass to be beaten with one of the old rug beaters he'd seen in the barn. With the radio on, he found at least a few hours reprieve from the ache that had settled so heavily over him, like a helmet made of lead or a jacket of chain mail.

Personally, he proffered the one Ruth had made...

* * *

A few drivers had stuck around but there were others that had decided to pack it up for a long trip back to their home tracks. If Piston said it wasn't a mandatory thing then they figured they'd wait to hear about it through the grape vine.

Louise felt a tension between her shoulders that had been building since that morning. It had distracted her on the track and she'd paid for it. Some drivers were happy with a top ten but that wasn't her usual running style.

"Something's wrong." She muttered to Junior as they waited for Piston's arrival to the infield.

They'd all been a little surprised that morning when team #51 hadn't shown. It wasn't like them to miss a race without a word and it _certainly_ wasn't like them to miss a race without an official withdraw notice.

Piston's less than gregarious attitude as he approached the racers who had stayed behind did nothing to calm their nerves. The hustle and bustle of the track faded to the background and all those in attendance noticed with some surprise that Piston's daughter was even there amongst the members of administration and the few track officials, standing beside her father with a quiet yet despondent expression.

He started without preamble. "It was requested early this morning, that I pass along a brief comment from the #51 team-"

Lou quickly looked toward the other two, her concern increasing with the fact that it was the Piston family that were aware of something before they were.

"We all agreed it would be easier to make everyone aware, rather than bombard the team with questions at a time like this-" He paused abruptly and shook his head, apparently coming to the conclusion to just get on with it. "The team will not be participating in any foreseeable races-"

River and Junior glanced toward each other in bemusement, and Lou could see the same confusion crossing the faces of a few others standing on the other side of the half circle they'd formed around Edward Piston.

Piston shook out the folded paper he'd pulled from his jacket pocket and read from it verbatim. "We apologize for the inconvenience and rescind all entry fees already paid up in to the next month-"

"Something's not right." River muttered.

"-but due to a family emergency, The Hudson Hornet team must withdraw and will not be participating in any races until further notice."

The three had stepped away from the group before Piston was finished speaking and spoke between themselves in hurried tones as they left, not paying any mind to what Piston had to say. That notice could only mean one thing, and it was a long drive back to Thomasville. They couldn't stick around.

* * *

"I need you to file this for me, my dear."

Emily looked away from the forms she'd been organizing and up toward her father as he approached the desk she worked at. She sighed lowly while taking the form he held out and glanced over it quickly before looking back up at him in surprise.

"I might not have the same authority I had in fifty, but they can't hold this against him."

She only nodded dumbly, glancing back down at the addendum to be filed with the bylaws. Years ago, because Edward Piston had funded so much of Piston Cup, he'd been able to make most, if not all, of the rules. Over time, different smaller committees and a board had been formed, and the power revolving around decision making had been distributed amongst those groups.

 _Addendum of Bylaws, Oct 4th, 1953._

 _Wherein the event of an emergency to any driver and/or team where a withdrawal notice is absent and/or late, shall not be held against the driver's and/or team's ranking or chances of claiming the title of Piston Cup Champion for the corresponding year._

 _Signed: Edward Piston - Founder_

 _Joseph Moore Andrew Straton Gregory Smith - Administration_

"You don't need any signatures from the board? Emily asked.

"Only four signatures total is necessary." Her father explained. "The three who signed were the only ones present at today's race and they had no objections or concerns."

Emily nodded and looked over the paper again, she had no objections or concerns either, she only wished there was something more that could be done.

She didn't want to intrude though. No matter how kind the intentions of a stranger were, she felt that they weren't always welcomed. She'd felt that way when her grandfather had passed three years ago, and had found herself almost resentful of all the _well wishes_ that had flooded her home and her time. Sometimes it was best to remain silent, or at most offer support from a distance.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and nodded to her father as she commented that she would make sure it would find it's rightful place. Before he'd left the room she was picking up the phone to make some calls.

* * *

Jesse lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling through the dark, exhausted and sore yet unable to sleep. The others had gotten to the house late that afternoon, explaining that they had gotten word from Piston and had left to return to Thomasville immediately after. They'd all taken their usual places at the table, no one turning down Junior's offer of shine as evening crept in but the conversations were stilted, uncomfortable. Jesse had remained stoically silent as Smokey was the one to relay the events of the previous night.

His reasoning had been that he wasn't there. He had nothing to tell.

They weren't foolish enough to overstay their welcome either. Where they usually would spend half the night at the Hudson homestead, they unanimously packed it up and made their goodbyes well before ten. It was going to be a hard few days. They didn't want to make it any harder.

So Jesse found himself staring at the ceiling. He'd fallen asleep a few times, only to wake with a jolt every time he heard movement throughout the house. He wasn't usually such a light sleeper but every sound from the kitchen, every step heard through the living room would cause his eyes to snap open and he'd listen carefully only to remember that Henry was still there and probably would be for a few weeks at least.

He sat up quickly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed before standing and turning the floor fan off. He rubbed his forehead wearily as he left to go downstairs.

They hadn't spoken much, and that was a problem.

Smokey jumped at his place at the table to look up at Jesse in surprise as the large cardboard box was dropped unceremoniously on to the counter.

Without looking up at his brother, Jesse ran a hand over the top of the unopened parcel. "You think Joan'll have use for this...otherwise I'm gunna send it back..."

 _Ball Canning_ was imprinted in large cursive letters on the side of the box and Smokey felt his stomach turn. His eyes traced over the letters slowly before he looked up at Jesse, who continued to stare at the top of the box.

They'd ordered Ruth a whole new set for the twins' upcoming birthday, along with three dozen jars of each size available. It was the latest to hit the market, apparently, and it wasn't like they knew Ball Canning from Simplicity Patterns, but they'd been told when they'd ordered it that she would certainly know what it was.

He cleared his throat. "I can ask..."

Jesse only nodded, picking at the corner of the tape.

"You want any of this?"

Jesse glanced up, scanning the table top before meeting his brother's eyes and shaking his head. "Not interested in coffee right now."

"Not what I'm asking." Smokey replied quietly, moving the jar of shine Junior had left from the floor to the table.

He felt his teeth clamp together even as he grinned at the hastily written _Peach_ across the glass. It was the only kind Ruth ever touched.

The cabinet door clattered as it shut and he set the glass at his chair with exaggerated force before sliding in to his seat, swearing lowly as he pinched the bridge of his nose and Smokey twisted the top back on to the jar. He didn't know how to ask, he didn't want to cause any more pain even though it had been less than twenty-four hours but he couldn't go without an answer either. It had been plaguing him all day and wouldn't leave his thoughts.

He spun his glass slowly on the table, only lifting it an inch or so before turning it and setting it back down, unable to look at his brother.

"Was she...I mean did she-" His mouth formed a thin line and he finally looked up to meet Henry's eyes, his voice just above a whisper when he continued. "She didn't hurt?"

"No." Smokey shook his head, and would be blind not to see at least some semblance of relief in his brother's face. Though, his eyes were still filled with pain.

Jesse only nodded faintly, his attention going back on the glass in his hand.

"She was ok...she wanted you to know she loves you-"

Jesse looked up and across the kitchen abruptly before he set his jaw and looked down again. "I shouldn't have left-"

Smokey only sighed lowly and stared at his own glass. He had the very distinct feeling that Ruth hadn't wanted him there. It sounded callous at face value, but he knew it had been her attempt at somewhat protecting their younger brother. Selfless to the last, that was their Ruth Anne.

The coming days, weeks, months, who knew how long were going to be some of the hardest they'd seen in a long time. He wasn't ready, he knew Jesse certainly wasn't ready but they'd make the best of it. They always did.

The silence was oppressive and despite the ache in his chest and the weight on his shoulders, he grinned faintly as he spoke without looking up.

"You think she has to deal with horseshoe crabs?"

The startled bark of laughter from Jesse didn't surprise him and he smiled tightly when he did look up to see him slouched in his chair. He started laughing with him, not surprised when neither of them could stop even when his sides began to ache and Jesse held his stomach, complaining that it hurt. They were both crying but didn't care, laughing until they were coughing and only pausing long enough to look at each other before they started again.

It hurt, it hurt so much but he knew that if Ruth were there to see them feeling sorry for themselves she would have given them a what for.

They talked in to the early hours of the morning, about Ruth, about racing, about their parents, their friends and how the _garden needed weeding_ , moving to coffee once the shine was gone and Jesse commented that the sun was coming up.

They'd be alright. It would just take some time.


	33. When I Breathe

**AN: Chapters should get a little less heart wrenching from here...**

* * *

They'd gotten a few hours of sleep at least, passed out on the couch and in the old recliner. Sleep only seemed to come when they were too physically exhausted to function. Smokey knew it would probably be that way for a while.

He woke when the sun filtered in through the window, forcing him to squint as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before getting up to make more coffee, leaving Jesse to sleep on the couch. He'd let him wake on his own. What was that old phrase, let sleeping dogs lie...

He wasn't going to risk that.

He left a note on the counter, needing to run back to his place. He returned shortly after with a few small boxes and wasn't surprised to see Jesse up and about as he set them aside on the table.

Rummaging through the cabinets, Jesse glanced over his shoulder. "What are you all dressed up for?" He realized the answer as soon as he'd spoken but allowed Smokey to answer as opposed to cutting him off.

"Making sure arrangements are in order." He buttoned the dress jacket and watched his brother's back. "I brought the old picture albums and boxes to...well..." He looked over the items he'd carried in with him before glancing up again to gauge Jesse's reaction. He knew the answer to what he was about to say but felt the need to ask anyway. "Do you want to-"

He let his voice trail off as Jesse shook his head, still turned the other way.

Jesse muttered a soft _no_ , pausing to look at something he'd pulled out of the cabinet.

Smokey braced a hand against the back of his chair at the table. "Well then do you have any requests?" He watched silently as Jesse turned to stand in front of the sink, opened the thin box he'd found and glanced over the contents.

"Just the flowers."

Smokey didn't have to ask, knowing Jesse meant arrangements similar to what they'd taken to Ruth while she was in the hospital. "That's short notice, they might not-"

"I know."

He muttered a faint acknowledgment before straightening again, commenting that he'd be back that afternoon.

Jesse stood with the heels of his hands braced on the cool surface of the edge of the sink, staring out at the garden while he tapped the small box in his hand against the counter.

"Hollywood."

"Mmm?"

"I asked if you were sure that's all you want..."

He only looked back out the window before nodding faintly. "Yeah...that's all I want." Jesse closed the little lid to the box and threw it in the trash as he passed on his way outside. "You don't wanna be late...and I have work to do..."

Smokey glanced in to the bin before following him out the door, reading over the label on the box of old canning lids with a sigh. He held a hand out to catch the screen door before it could slap against the frame and paused only for a moment at the top of the porch steps to watch as Jesse trudged toward the barn.

It was later than he'd anticipated when he finally parked in the drive again. He was already at the back door when he noticed the table was covered in produce from the garden. Boxes, some of their mother's old metal bowls, even the colander was barely able to contain the amount of vegetables that had been collected. He turned away from the door to look over the property, the garden was immaculate, tomato plants that had been falling over were staked up, vines of the assorted squash plants contained, the edges of the tilled ground were clean, and the contrast of the dark soil with the freshly cut grass of the yard was just a portion of the evidence of how much work had been done.

Entering the house, he cut himself off from yelling for Jesse when he looked at the table, seeing a small amount of photos set aside from the collection he'd brought that morning. He wasn't surprised to find him passed out on the couch either, grass clippings and all.

* * *

"Hey, Lou."

Louise looked up from the conversation at the table, they'd been checking in at least once a day and while they didn't want to intrude too much, they also wanted to offer their show of support.

Jesse stood with the screen door pushed open. "Could we get your help for a second."

She blinked, not knowing in the least how she'd be able to provide any kind of help, but pushed her chair back and followed him back in to the house, leaving River and Junior at the table. Following him up the stairs, she couldn't help but notice the stiff set of his shoulders, or catch the fact that his expression had shifted as they rounded the corner to the hallway. As Jesse pushed the door open to Ruth's room she realized why they'd asked for her.

The room wasn't incredibly small, but Smokey stood with a shoulder against the door frame as Jesse explained.

The gown Ruth had worn to the Piston banquet the year before was laid out, and Lou tilted her head in an attempt to hold back her own rush of grief as well as consider what Jesse had asked her.

"This is what she wore with the dress and we had thought of using it." Jesse gestured to the necklace and earring set that was already set beside the gown before holding up another. "But she really loved our mother's more-" His voice trailed off uncertainly and it was obvious they were clueless when it came to things like this. Lou didn't know which was more upsetting, their sincere request of her opinion or how they were able to keep themselves together enough to ask her.

She took the jewelry in question from him and laid it out on the bed, taking away the newer set.

"It's beautiful." She muttered. "She'd be very happy."

* * *

They were the smallest, and youngest, receiving line Thomasville had ever seen, only outdoing their own record from when their mother had died.

The visitation had been grueling and had lasted longer than they had expected. Jesse couldn't understand how they'd been stuck there nearly three hours in a town they'd jokingly claimed had a population of _fifty_. He'd been startled but also humbled at the amount of familiar faces in Piston Cup he'd spoken to that evening, or the amount of firm handshakes and rough pats on the shoulder.

If it wasn't drivers themselves, it was their team and if it wasn't a team it was administration. Jesse had realized his conversation with Joe Moore had caused the line to divert around them and straight to Henry, not that he was complaining.

He appreciated the addendum to the bylaws, but had explained he really wasn't worried about it at the moment.

"I didn't expect you to be." Joe explained with a glance between the brothers. "Just want you to know there's a group of people thinking of you both."

* * *

The following afternoon, Jesse sat on the edge of the bed staring across the room vacantly and only barely focusing on the windowsill. He'd been told he'd spoken beautifully but he really couldn't remember any of it. His home was about to be overrun with distant relatives and acquaintences and he wanted nothing to do with it.

His entire life, Jesse had looked at himself as only part of a whole. Now that the other half was gone, he was left struggling to keep himself afloat, trying not to overbalance and drown.

He forced himself up and crossed the hall, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he picked out the features he and Ruth had shared. Blue eyes, dark hair, straight thin nose. He didn't have the freckles she did, though. They would have looked ridiculous on him anyway.

She was Little Dipper for a reason.

He hadn't wanted to get out of bed that morning, and if he were honest with himself he wanted to crawl right back in to bed now.

She deserved better than that.

He raked a comb through his hair and let it clatter back on to the sink before going to leave but paused and rested his shoulder in the doorway. He wasn't ready to go down there yet.

His eyes roamed over the hall, where they'd rolled marbles from one end to the other out of boredom in the summers, to the steps where they'd driven their mother crazy when The Slinky was first introduced, to more recently when they'd been preparing to leave for a Piston Cup banquet and he'd voiced his fears reluctantly.

 _She stood in the doorway to her room, barefoot as usual as she looked at him with exasperation. "This is what you wanted isn't it?"_

 _He'd stood exactly where he was then. "What if I'm just not cut out for...all this...?"_

 _She fought to clasp her earring. "If you want to be in Piston Cup you need to learn to be part of their game...now stop worrying, Jesse Aaron, and go get dressed."_

With a sigh he pushed away from the door frame and steeled himself for an afternoon of guests parading through his house. He rounded the corner of the steps quickly to pass through the living room, offering a quiet _hello_ to some relation from his father's side, having no idea what their names were or what their connection was for that matter. He stopped quickly and backtracked to pick up a card he'd disturbed, glancing over the front and opening it briefly to look over the inside. He was surprised that it was a handwritten message within and not just some coined phrase of _t_ _hinking of you._

 _Deepest sympathies, well wishes and prayers to see you through a time of hurting. Hoping that memories of love and laughter carry you through difficult moments._

 _The sun still shines on broken hearts._

Jesse's mouth formed a thin line and his brows lowered. He wasn't going to cry over a _card,_ especially not in front of these people. He set the card back up on the mantle in front of the vase of flowers it had obviously come with and his brows lowered again, this time in bemusement as he flipped over the little sympathy card on the pick attached to the vase.

 _The Pistons._

He'd have to send a thank you card, it had probably been ordered by a secretary anyway...

A cup was shoved in to his hand as soon as he'd stepped outside and he tried not to bristle at the fact that there were a horde of kids sitting at the table on the porch. Smokey muttered lowly to him even as he realized the cup Junior had shoved in to his hand was filled with shine. "A few hours, Jesse, that's all."

It had proven to be a few hours too much. The final comment sending him over the edge being some cousin he'd never met asking how things were going in _horse racing._

"Dunno." He'd replied sharply. "War Admiral still running?"

There was a reason he'd hidden the Hornet away.

So he'd found some peace at the edge of the garden, leaned back against the rock wall, and fought to keep from gritting his teeth whenever someone approached. Joan had been the first, though inadvertently. She'd stepped away to get a breather herself and was admiring the flowers Ruth had loved so much when she realized she was nearly shoulder to shoulder with Jesse. Their comments had been stilted, and she'd turned to walk back to the house when he'd bitten back a groan and spoke up.

"Joan-..."

She turned back toward him, red eyed and more withdrawn than he was used to seeing her.

"Look, I know we've never really-" His voice trailed off when she put a hand over his and she only nodded faintly.

"It's alright, Jesse..."

They shared a brief look of understanding, both holding back tears and forcing fragile smiles to hide those tears before she turned away to go back to the house.

Louise was the last one to speak with him before they were left on their own for the evening, sitting along the edge of the rock wall beside him.

"This is no one's fault, Jesse." She commented quietly.

She didn't hear exactly what he said but knew it was most likely some passive aggressive comment on where to place blame. He'd become increasingly more difficult as the day had drawn on. She couldn't really blame him, but this wasn't the Jesse Hudson she was used to. Though, losing someone you love could attribute to that. She'd had a hard time seeing the boys before they'd left the cemetery, looking lost and alone as they'd been permitted to say their final goodbyes. There was no delusion over the fact that this would take time but Jesse seemed worse than even the day after Ruth had passed, that instead of providing some form of closure, he'd been forced to really accept the fact that she was gone. She wasn't coming back.

"Will you stop." She nearly groaned, wanting some reaction out of him other than reserved simmering anger. He was drowning and refused their help.

"Stop what Lou? Grieving?"

"We have two different ideas of grieving. You can't keep this all bottled up and expect to be able to get through day to day life. Have you even cried?"

"Yes."

"Well…" She struggled for what to say. "Cry more."

"Crying won't bring her back."

She clenched her fist and took a deep breath, trying to calm her own frazzled nerves. "Alright, fine. If you're so adamant on blaming someone, who's at fault Jesse? Who did this?"

She felt her resolve wavering when he didn't answer and continued to stare past her toward the gardens, obviously intent on staying away from the rest of the those gathered at the house. She waited, staring at the reflection of the last of the summer flowers in his sunglasses before she finally sighed and shook her head before turning back toward the house.

He didn't speak until she was gone, shifting against the rock wall and muttering lowly as he reached for the cup of shine Junior had made sure to keep filled.

"I did…"

In four days Jesse would be turning twenty-three.


	34. 1953 Piston Cup

The evening before his birthday they had all asked what he wanted to do and were not in the least bit surprised when he'd answered with _nothing._

"Are you sure?" Junior had asked, sitting at the kitchen table as he'd shuffled the cards in front of him to deal another hand. "Even just going to The-"

Jesse had only reached over to open the door to the freezer from where he stood at the counter. Gesturing to the multitude of frozen casseroles, trays, and who knew what else with a raised brow. He had no idea who any of those belonged to and knew he'd have to start a campaign through Thomasville to return everything. They couldn't turn anyone down, as it would be exceedingly rude and ungrateful, but every time he turned around they were being laden down with meals from families in the community.

He held a hand up and repositioned a glass dish before it had the chance to start an avalanche. "I'm gunna start sending this all with you."

They didn't question him further and that had been the end of the conversation as they'd gone back to their game of cards.

The next morning Pastor Easton paused at the top of the steps to the church as he'd gone for his keys and looked over the navy blue Hudson idling on the dirt road that meandered around the side of the building. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't struggled through the funeral service only days ago, having witnessed those kids growing up in town and the hardships they'd faced through the years. They seemed to be holding up well, but he hadn't been able to speak to either of the boys since they'd left the cemetery earlier that week.

He started down the steps as Jesse got out of the car and went around to the back, pushing the hood of the trunk up before brushing his hands on his jeans.

"What can I help you with, Jesse?"

"I think it's what I can help you with, sir."

Easton tilted his head quizzically as he approached the vehicle. He couldn't call himself a resident of Thomasville without being a Piston Cup fan of _some sort_ and even with his attention on the matter at hand, it was hard not to notice how powerful the low rumble of the engine of the Hornet was, how detailed the paint job was up close, or even how the _di_ _rt track racer_ tires had left tracks in the fine dirt beneath their feet.

Before he had a chance to ask, Jesse hefted up a box and rested it on the edge of the trunk. "It's not that we don't appreciate the support, but it's only Henry and I and we can't eat all this. It's going to go to waste before we can touch it." He looked up to Easton briefly, balancing the box between the Hornet and his knee. "We thought the food bank was a better option."

He nodded slowly with a faint grin. "I can do that."

"This box is all meals that are frozen." Jesse hefted the box in to his arms and nodded in direction of the trunk. "But that's all nonperishable." He held the box up in his hands again. "We thought maybe these could go to people that are home bound or-..." He shrugged helplessly, unsure how to continue. "You probably have better connections anyway."

He nodded once again as he reached for the second box. "I'll see to it."

Once the boxes were squared away, they spent a few hours talking about anything and everything. Jesse had shut off the Hornet fifteen minutes or so in to their conversation, which had led to him going over the car bumper to bumper as the small town pastor seemed to be quite the car enthusiast himself. Getting his mind off things for a while had been an added bonus.

As Jesse was making his way to the front of the car again, he paused and turned back when he'd heard his name.

"Do you want a name-"

"Anonymous..." He turned before backtracking a little and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "No." Jesse met the older man's eyes and shook his head before clarifying. "In memory of Ruth."

"Absolutely."

* * *

The group had still wanted to do something and when they'd shown up at the house, Smokey had only shaken his head before telling them _maybe another time._

River leaned over the opened door of his car, not about to argue with them but generally curious. "Where is he?"

"He was running that food over to the church."

Lou shook her head. "We just passed there, he wasn't there."

They all in turn looked expectantly toward Smokey who only pulled his ball cap lower on his brow as they'd parted ways. "I know where he is."

He'd just missed them at the church, but wasn't surprised to see a card in a lavender envelope propped against Ruth's new headstone with Jesse's recognizable handwriting scrawled across the front. He'd let his own rest beside it before jumping back in to the truck to catch up with his brother.

Dust hung heavy in the air as he leaned his forearms against the rail in his usual spot. Staring at the transition in the ground below him, from the dead and dying grass to the dirt of the track, he listened to the Hornet's motor with every gear change Jesse made. It always seemed so effortless. In all their years of racing the engine never whined, never hesitated or balked at anything they asked of it but now, as he listened to it without watching as Jesse rounded the corner it sounded _angry._ It sounded like it wanted a challenge, and that Jesse just wasn't meeting expectations. Or maybe it was Jesse that wanted the challenge and the Hornet that wasn't meeting expectation...

He only looked up briefly when the Hornet finally slowed to a stop in front of him and Jesse kicked the door shut with his foot. "You redline it any harder and you're gunna blow that motor."

He didn't catch Jesse's muttered response but knew he'd agreed with him.

They stood on either side of the rail, mirroring each other's posture.

Smokey glanced up at him to take in his profile, face flushed with the adrenaline of driving, tired and covered in dirt.

"You alright?"

"Yeah..."

He'd just needed a sense of _normalcy_ after that week, and if it meant exhausting himself behind the wheel then so be it. A car was one thing he could control, it excelerated when he asked and shifted when he decided. The low centered chassis hugged the turns like he knew it would and coming out of a turn was child's play. He just wanted to feel grounded again.

"Look..." Smokey started. "I know I've pulled you from the next few races."

Jesse finally looked up at him sidelong as he continued.

"But that doesn't mean we can't keep 'er sharp right?" He shoved Jesse's shoulder gently and gestured to the Hornet. "Let's start with ten."

* * *

While he'd lost twelve races and missed three due to the loss of his sister, Jesse Hudson still walked away with the 1953 Piston Cup.

The banquet that fall was just as extravagant as the year before, the only difference being that it was not a fundraiser and that all of those that had contributed funds the year before were in attendance. It had nearly doubled in size.

Emily watched the room from her vantage point and drummed her fingers rhythmically against the linen covered table. She wasn't usually one to turn her nose up at others, well... _anymore..._ but there were so many in attendance that she was sure didn't know the difference between her brother's Chevy and Heming's Chrysler, yet they threw money around in this sport like it was nothing. She hadn't spoken to any of the other women in attendance, who were only concerned with meeting a big name or showing off the price of their jewelry.

Maybe they weren't, maybe she was just being unfair.

She'd only partially listened to whatever Bea had been telling her as she scanned the room, making the expected observations or comments at the appropriate times. She'd finally cut her off to let her know that they were going to be awarding the Cup in a few moments.

If she hadn't sent that sympathy card herself nearly a month ago, she would have never realized there was anything wrong. Hudson didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he had the previous year, having grown in to his role in the sport and the easygoing confidence that accompanied that. He'd made it to the front of the room when his name was called and accepted the piston shaped trophy with a smile. It was what he'd said in front of the room that gave her pause.

Their voices were muffled as one of the newer members of administration congratulated him and he accepted the year's trophy.

Jesse glanced briefly at the Piston Cup, leaning toward the mic a little as he was quite a bit taller than the man who'd spoken first. "It's uh-...well it's been a long year, and I'm sure everyone is thinking about how they just want to get this over with and start thinking about next year. There were some rough patches- I'm looking at you Heming-" He looked in the man's general direction and shifted from one foot to the other with a smirk when those in attendance reacted accordingly. "But really I'm not the only one deserving of this award...there's so much work that no one ever sees. Whether it's filing paperwork in the main offices, scheduling practice times on the tracks or getting your hands dirty under the hood. All I do is drive in circles."

He paused again when there were more low chuckles from those gathered.

"It isn't just the driver."

Emily tilted her head and looked toward the centerpiece of the table, she wasn't oblivious.

Jesse reached for the award as he finished his short speech and glanced up briefly toward his table as he made his final comment. "I didn't earn this myself."

He'd said a quick thanks before leaving the podium and returned to his table and she'd wanted to offer congratulations and condolences in person but had never gotten a chance to catch him on his own the rest of the evening. She'd forced herself to listen to whatever Bea found important enough to share.

She'd lost her tentative hold on what patience she had left by the end of the evening when they'd been preparing to leave.

Alex had stood in the narrow hallway of the coat room behind her and Bea as they retrieved their coats, speaking loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"It's a sympathetic win. Everyone feels sorry for him."

Other drivers had either verbally protested or just looked up from their own places in surprise. Emily heard Heming mutter as he reached for his own coat, speaking to another rookie.

"Can you believe this guy?"

Her mouth formed a thin line and she stood with her jacket over her arm, turning to look at her brother with poorly veiled disdain. "Is that really what you think?"

"Well obviously." He looked at her seriously. "Or I wouldn't have said it."

She took a few steps toward him, ignoring Bea's quiet remark and narrowed her eyes. "It's one thing when you can't accept the fact that someone has more talent than you, but to be so disrespectful as to use someone's _death_ as an excuse is low. Even for you."

The hallway was silent as the siblings squared off, other drivers and even a few administration watching in surprise. Emily Piston was not known to be very forward.

Apparently things were changing...or maybe they were wrong in their original assumptions...

Emily straightened her posture to make herself as tall as possible, shoulders straight as she looked him over with a haughty expression. "Grow up, Alexander."

She turned and left the coatroom without another word, the only sound being her heels clicking against the tile floor until the door closed behind her.

The other drivers who had witnessed the exchanged looked between themselves, brows raised and a few whistles of appreciation accenting Alex's departure as well.

"Who knew..."

* * *

The rest of the year had passed uneventfully, which was fine with Jesse as they'd slowly started to figure out a new sense of normal. The constant stream of visitors in and out of the house made the quiet less noticeable, and when it was quiet he'd leave the radio on.

He'd been silently dreading the holidays, though, when Ruth took over the house and forced him to bring old family decorations down from the attic. When she controlled the kitchen and took over the role their mother had once held. The sound of a radio couldn't make up for that.

The stained glass windows of the church were illuminated by the candles within the building as they walked down the steps and back to their cars. Christmas Eve service hadn't been quite the same without someone to laugh with over the way the wax always burnt their fingers while singing the closing song, or to listen to complaints of no snow. " _On Christmas there should be snow."_

Jesse stood with his shoulders hunched up against the cold as Smokey finished saying goodnight to a few of their neighbors, throwing out a _Merry Christmas_ when he realized he hadn't spoken to them at all. They couldn't leave until they'd been through the cemetery, it had been something the three of them had done every year and it wasn't going to change just because there were two. He pushed the gate of the white picket fence open and they stood together in the dim light, both of them shivering as the breeze picked up.

After a few moments Henry shoved his hands in his pockets. It was colder than usual. "I'll meet you at the house."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a little bit."

He nodded and thumped Jesse's back with a hand before turning away, closing the gate behind him.

Jesse took a deep breath and sighed lowly as he listened to the Hudson pickup turn on to the main road. He blinked a few times in surprise when something cold touched his nose, and focusing through the dark, he realized with a huff that it was beginning to snow. Grinning faintly he knelt in front of his family's markers, looking over the names.

He might not have always been one for sentiment, but kneeling alone in the frost covered grass he pressed his fingers to his mouth before brushing his hand over the stones. He stood again stiffly as snowflakes collected in his hair and on his shoulders, forcing him to blink a few times when they caught in his eyelashes or on his cheeks.

"Merry Christmas..."

He closed the gate behind him when he left and drove home in silence, shrugging off his jacket as soon as he was inside the back door and shivering as he rubbed his arms.

"What is this?"

He looked at the counter where his brother stood and offered a look of offense. "Don't eat all of them!"

"I'm not." Smokey raised both hands, grinning. "I just asked a question."

"I wanted cookies-"

"You made cookies..." He stated incredulously.

"Well where else was I going to get them?"

Smokey glanced toward the other counter. "Is that stuff for hot chocolate?"

"Maybe." Jesse looked at him guardedly. "What's wrong with that?"

"It seems a little..."

Jesse was sure he was going to say _childish_ but beat him to the punch when he opened the cabinet and plopped the bottle of peppermint schnapps on the counter in front of him.

" _That's_ more like it."

They spent Christmas on their own, sitting at the kitchen table, swapping stories and eating all the food in the house.


	35. Early 1954 and Changes

**AN: Life goes on**

* * *

 **Spring 1954**

They didn't go on vacation that spring, forgoing their usual off season trip to instead stay home. Neither of them had been in the mood to travel anyway. By the time March rolled around they were anticipating the beginning of a new season, but they weren't pleased with the last few letters they'd both received in the mail.

"The others have gotten them too, though." Smokey explained as he stood with his back to the counter, holding up the latest informational letter to come in the mail. "It's not like we're being singled out."

" _You're_ the owner and crew chief of this team, Henry, not some suit that has money to throw around."

"You saying I don't have money?"

"You know what I mean." Jesse nearly snapped as he looked out the window over the kitchen sink. Rain had flooded the garden, standing in large puddles that made the back yard look more like a lake or marsh than anything else.

"Some drivers don't have the money to sustain themselves...a third party owner might be beneficial to them."

"We're not them."

Smokey only shrugged, he agreed with Jesse but he could see why some were pushing so hard for it.

"I mean..." Jesse hesitated, turning away from the window finally and running a hand over his face roughly. "If it's worked this long why does Piston-"

"I don't think he has much to do with this." Smokey replied as he collected the papers he'd been keeping track of. Putting them in order, he flipped the folder shut he'd brought with him and tossed it on the table. "There's a lot of back door politics going on."

"Well it can stay off the track." Racing was _racing_ and they didn't need a bunch of dandies with egos stepping in to throw their weight around. "I'm not driving for some pencil pusher who doesn't even know what a carburetor is."

"Or that the Hornet has two?"

"Exactly."

Smokey couldn't help but smirk, but the reality was they may not have much say. "You may very well have to...we'll see..."

* * *

The drivers were split fifty-fifty, of course those who didn't need outside help in funding their teams were highly opposed to the idea. Some of the newer drivers, the less experienced or those who couldn't fund their own teams pushed the topic at the meeting that spring in South Carolina.

Emily knew it was a massive change in how the sport was being run, some of the proposed ideas being everyone fall in to using the same brand tire, others wanting to use the same fuel. The biggest upset of the room was each team answering to a third party, and if she hadn't heard it with her own ears she would have never guessed her brother would have _ever_ agreed with Jesse Hudson.

"Hudson's right. If a team can sustain themselves then they should be permitted to do so. If a team _wants_ to answer to a third party why couldn't they?"

"Because that's not a level playing field."

All eyes swung in the direction of one of the newer admins, no one really knew the man's name yet, Jesse didn't really care, he was elbowing his way in to places he didn't belong.

No one liked getting their toes stepped on.

"We'll use yourself and Hudson as an example." The man continued, ignoring the way Jesse leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Now you both have well funded teams, through your own personal finances and outside sources. I know Hudson has sponsors that take care of certain...necessities, needed to attend a race on a weekly basis."

"Does he know what he's talking about." Jesse muttered lowly.

"Not with that kind of language..." Smokey knew the man was keeping it vague for a reason, if he knew what an entry fee was he would have thrown it on the table, or cost of tires, or that their tires were free.

"And you, yourself, Mr. Piston, I'm sure rarely see a price tag to keep your vehicle maintained."

The man sounded like a lawyer and Jesse felt his stomach turn.

"Now I'm sure there are many of you drivers that fall in to this category." He gestured to a few in turn as he mentioned their names. "Scott, Asher, Green...but what of the younger drivers?"

"Younger?" Jesse heard River hiss at his side. "He makes us sound like we're on our way out."

Jesse glanced in his direction as Junior replied. "Think that might be what he's getting at..."

"Not even twenty-six. I don't think so."

They fell silent when Louise shushed them lowly, but their attitudes only continued to simmer.

The floor was opened for another vote, and Jesse could see where it was going when it was suggested that teams vote verbally as opposed to an anonymous silent vote.

"They're doing this on purpose."

"Piston looks like he's going to have a heart attack."

"Do you blame him? Nothing has ever been handled this way." The _old gang_ as Jesse was going to start dubbing them, looked like they'd been blindsided and forced in to action they weren't expecting. Outmanned by the very people that had been recently hired on.

They were being railroaded, all of them, forced in to making decisions without a decent amount of time to weigh their options or form more convincing arguments.

Emily glanced up in surprise at her father when they did intend to move forward with another vote. Her hand poised over the paper, she looked up at him for direction and held back her surprise when he only nodded slightly.

Leaning toward her table, he muttered. "It'll have to be fought another time."

Her heart pounded and she was forced to set her pen down a moment, flexing her fingers. She had to admit it made sense, it did. Talent was one thing, finances were another, but she felt like somehow it wasn't just going to be finances, not with how some of the teams were reacting. Piston Cup had never left her feeling uncertain, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.

Team #51's response didn't surprise her, a quick _no_ from the owner but the added _number fifty-one isn't for bid_ from the driver caused her to bite back a grin.

It didn't matter anyway, the response going in favor of teams falling under umbrella owners.

* * *

"Nice of them to spring this on us just before the season starts." Junior muttered as he shuffled the deck of cards.

"Someone wants Piston's position I think." River huffed, picking up the jar of shine from the middle of the table.

Jesse only eyed the cards he held, picking them up as Junior dealt a new hand and leaned back in his chair. He waited for Lou to get the game going before commenting. "You saw that too?"

"I think they all do."

"Well they apparently can get their way..."

"It's like I told Jesse." Smokey started, finally sitting at the table and looking over his own hand. "There's some back door dealings going down that we're not supposed to be noticing."

"Hard not to." Lou raised a brow as it came back around to her.

"I'll raise." Jesse muttered to whoever might be listening before adding money to the middle of the table. He picked up the jar of shine and set it back down over the folding money.

"Where did you even find this?" Smokey reached across and tugged on the brim of the brown hat Jesse wore.

"With dad's stuff." He smirked and held his cards closer, knowing that was more of an attempt to see his hand than anything. "Think I look like a real card player this way."

"You think so."

"Mmm...found this too." He leaned back and grabbed an old Zippo lighter from his pocket, flipping it open absently to see if the wick had aired out enough. He flipped it shut, dousing the little flame before offering it to Smokey. "Thought you'd want it."

Henry only held up his own. "Keep it. He had more than one."

"So who we all driving for now?" Junior asked, figuring everyone would answer in turns. The only one to answer immediately was Louise.

"David, something or other...going over paperwork this week."

"And _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet?_ "

Jesse wrinkled his nose in disgust as Smokey replied. "Joe-"

"Moore?"

"You wish..." Smokey looked at his brother sympathetically. "I actually did talk to him but he doesn't want involved with this."

"He should be, we need more backing us up."

"Joe Kingsley's his name."

"I don't like him already."

"Hollywood." He warned with a smirk, pushing his shoulder roughly. "We gotta give this a chance before we get all bent out of shape."

"You give him a chance, I have driving to focus on."

"Oh, please." River rolled his eyes before putting his attention back on his cards and sighing. "...I fold..."

* * *

"How can they do this?"

"It makes sense, it's just the way they went about it."

"But you're-"

"The founder..." His father replied absently, looking over Emily's notes for anything he could use. "The founder and a name." He set the paper down and looked up toward his son. "I hold a single vote, not the majority."

"But you're the _founder._ Edward _Piston_."

"And Piston Cup has grown beyond my reach. They had a point, as I said, and I think the rest of the drivers can agree with that. It's the changes everyone must adjust to."

Alex stared as his father continued to work before finally relenting and turning to leave the office in a hurry. He clenched his jaw at his father's words in parting.

"This was never going to remain _only my_ sport Alexander."

Emily stood at the door and turned to allow her brother room as he passed through the doorway. She watched him leave before entering the office and closing the door behind her.

"You don't really feel that way..."

"I don't." Her father agreed, leaned back in the chair as he lit a cigar before gesturing after his son. "But he doesn't need to be running his mouth from here to New York and painting a target on our backs."

Emily sat on the edge of the chair across from him, looking at the papers strewn across the desk before meeting his eyes. "I wasn't expecting Mr. Sinclaire to-"

"To step in the way he did? No. If I'd known he was going to reinvent the wheel I wouldn't have offered him a position, but it would be too suspicious to cut ties now."

Emily bit her lip, maybe they were blowing this out of proportion, maybe this wasn't all bad. New faces and new ideas could help them grow further down the road. The more people involved with something, the more ideas and opinions.

More headaches.

They'd see how the season panned out. If it wasn't for the best, it would most likely be put forward to undergo changes the following spring.

* * *

"Mr. Kingsley." Jesse shook the man's hand firmly, forcing a polite grin.

"Please, call me Joe." The man nodded, dressed to the nines head to toe as he looked over the dirt of Thomasville Speedway. He was in his late fifties, early sixties from what they could tell and wore small round glasses that appeared almost too small for his face. Jesse glanced down to see dust collecting around the cuffs of his pant legs.

This was their territory, and he wasn't going to allow some man with Wingtip shoes make him feel like he was being appraised.

Smokey intended to take over, knowing Jesse had been wound up over this meeting all day, but the older man beat him to it.

"Just wanted to get out here and meet you boys, I don't intend on telling you what to do out there. You obviously have things well in hand." He removed his hat, unused to the heat, though to the Hudson brothers it was only spring in Georgia.

Smokey elbowed his brother discretely, catching his look, but addressed the older man. "Sir?"

"I'm really only...an investor of sorts. I can cover costs that might not be met otherwise, but seeing as you are the leading team of Piston Cup I see no reason to make any changes."

Jesse felt the knot in his chest loosen slowly, he'd been expecting this Mr. Kingsley to step in and start telling them what to do, what to use and when to use it.

"I do have a few questions though."

"Yes?"

"Could I get a look at this car I've heard so much about?"


	36. Friendly Competition

They'd considered spending the evening at The Cottor Pin as a group, but they'd been there so much recently that they were debating over another outing for the evening.

"What kind of people in their early twenties can't find something to do on a Friday night?" Junior asked from the porch rail he was perched on.

Jesse rolled the paper bag of seeds closed and looked past Junior's shoulder toward the garden. He and Henry had been debating on if they even wanted to attempt such an undertaking that year. He'd considered downsizing the area used, but with as often as they were away during a season, he had a feeling it would be overgrown and in ruins before the end of July. Tossing the bag to the middle of the table he leaned back and put his arms behind his head. "The kind that don't find _joy riding_ any fun."

"And why should we?" Lou asked. "We're paid to drive faster than any of those kids in town could even dream of."

River took a section of the paper Smokey had been reading earlier that afternoon, but only glanced over it in disinterest before looking up toward Junior. "You haven't been running shine lately have you?"

"If he has he's employed new drivers." Jesse muttered.

"I have." Junior deadpanned. "You're all bad for business."

"I knew it. He's too good for us."

"It's more like the other way around Mr. _Fabulous Hudson Hornet._ " He replied facetiously before jumping down from the rail. He finally became serious and answered River's question. "Nah, haven't made any recently."

"His new sponsor wouldn't approve of it." Lou commented, knowing the subject would get him riled up.

The other's all looked between themselves as Junior launched in to a tirade against the whole _idea_ of answering to an outside owner, that these dandies in their dress suits and ridiculous straw hats had no right to be telling them what to do.

"Hey my daddy had a straw hat." Jesse threw in for good measure.

River eyed him with uncertainty. "Did he really?"

"No." Jesse huffed as if the very idea disgusted him.

They both smirked when Junior only paused in his lengthy speech to throw in a _shut the hell up Hudson_ , before continuing on.

"Disrespecting me in my house." Jesse tisked. "Wait till I tell my brother."

"What does he have to do with _your_ house?"

"Well he is the elder Hudson." He shrugged. "And bigger than me, so he can whoop you and I don't have to get my hands dirty."

"I'm so glad we're all friends."

"Where is Smokey anyway?"

"Had some commitments he needed to see about, doesn't know if he'll make it over at all."

The topic of conversation shifted away from Junior's ire over their current situation in Piston Cup and Jesse caught himself staring at the bag he'd thrown to the middle of the table. Since about December he'd noticed it was becoming easier to fall back in to old routines, old habits, and banter of every day interactions.

He'd even laughed a few times without it being forced or connected to something otherwise painful.

He always stopped himself though, and he'd remind himself of a comment Henry had made a month or so before the annual spring meeting they'd attended.

 _You're allowed to smile. You know that right? It's ok to be happy._

Except it didn't feel ok, what right did he have to laugh or joke about _anything_ so soon? There was already so much that had happened that he wished he could talk to Ruth about, the issues that had suddenly sprung up with Piston, if she would've wanted the whole garden planted or just a portion? Were the cookies he'd made around Christmas as good as moms had been and would she have tried the hot chocolate they'd _improved_ with their addition of alcohol...

He felt guilty. He shouldn't be joking so lightheartedly one moment and sorting through the seeds she'd so carefully collected the next.

Jesse realized the others had fallen silent and glanced up to see they were all looking at him. "What?"

"Did you hear what I said?" Junior asked.

"Uh-" He shook his head. "No, I was thinking about this week-" It wasn't a _complete_ lie, he was thinking about the garden...somewhat... "Sorry. What did you-?"

"I said I think I know of something we can do. If you're up for it."

He really wasn't but he knew how they'd react to his turning them down...

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

"We're doing what-...?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Hudson. You can see what we're doing."

Jesse had left the Hornet home and had ridden with River, being told _that flashy car would get them all caught for sure._

"It looks like trespassing to me."

"When has that ever bothered you?" Lou grinned.

"It doesn't, just making an observation."

They'd all slowly begun to adjust to his shifting attitude. It was a gamble at times as to what kind of mood he would be in. River had compared it to the weather once, sunshine to thunderstorms in moments.

It would have been reprehensible, but they never spoke behind his back. River had made the comment to Jesse specifically.

Jesse hadn't argued either.

Coming up along the fence line, Junior muttered to the others lowly. "You all breathe any louder and this'll be pointless."

He turned to look back when they'd all ducked through the fence and only shrugged a shoulder when Jesse shook his head, sitting on the top rail.

"Someone's gotta drive the get away car right?" For good measure, he continued. "Might as well be the best driver."

"You're lucky we all like you."

"I'm not sure _lucky_ is the right word."

"You're a-"

"Shhh..." Jesse raised both brows and gestured for him to get going. "Impress me, moonshiner."

"Oh, impressing Jesse Hudson? Maybe we should take a wager."

"I don't gamble if I know I'll win."

"That's _exactly_ when you should gamble."

Jesse smirked, and they gained the attention of the others as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and set a ten on the fence post beside him.

"What's the wager?" River suddenly approached from nowhere.

Without missing a beat, Jesse replied while looking back in his wallet. "If Lou would hit you for no reason."

"Well that's easy." Lou muttered, backhanding River's shoulder.

"Ow-"

"We didn't actually make a bet on-" Junior started.

"No I just wanted to see if she would do it." Jesse grinned and returned his wallet to his pocket.

"That's a low blow." River muttered.

"Hey I didn't hit you." Jesse slapped his hand over the money beside him. "First to succeed gets the money."

"Ten bucks for tipping a cow?"

"Hey you're welcome to add to the pot but I'm not wasting any more than ten."

Their bickering actually drew the attention of a number of cattle that had been grazing nearby and a large fawn colored cow wandered along the fence to investigate. She nosed at Jesse's knee before checking if there was anything in his hands. The pasture bordered a road on the old school bus routes, and children were always feeding the cows treats through the fence. He absently rested a hand on her neck while the others all pulled money from their pockets.

The others all added money to the fence post, dodging the curious attention of the cow as she made her rounds in checking to see if _they_ had anything.

"Is there a time limit?" River asked.

"Till someone wins." Jesse replied. "Or we get caught by whoever owns this place."

"It's my uncle's land." Junior muttered. "He's not gunna care."

"So we're _not_ trespassing."

"It is harrassment of cows."

"You can't actually _tip a cow._ "

"Watch me."

"There is forty bucks on the line." Jesse added.

It was his comment that caused them all to scatter in different directions and despite the fact that evening had moved in quickly, Jesse's eyes had adjusted enough and from his vantage point on the fence he could just about make out where everyone was. How was he supposed to know if they'd succeeded or not, though? He couldn't see amazingly well, and it was only getting darker.

The cow that had come to investigate the group had hung around and crowded where he sat as she grazed along the edge of the fence below his feet. They jumped at the same time, Jesse gasping in surprise when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, nearly falling off the split wood railing. Whoever it was grabbed the back of his shirt and righted him before he had a chance to hit the ground.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Smokey hissed.

"Officiating...seriously you could've given me a heart attack..."

" _I_ could've given _you_ a heart attack?" He asked incredulously, leaning against the fence at Jesse's side. "Everyone's car is at the house but River's and no one in sight, but I gave you a heart attack."

"I didn't think you were coming out."

"I finished earlier than I expected."

They fell silent as Jesse felt the tension in his limbs dissipate and he regained his composure after being startled so soundly.

"What're they doing, anyway?"

"There's a bet on over who can tip a cow first."

Smokey blinked a few times and tilted his head as he considered the absurdity of that comment. After a moment he glanced up to take in his brother's silhouette and muttered lowly. "You're not partaking?"

He knew that usually Jesse would've been the ringleader in such shenanigans. He was usually the one to be convincing the others in to some stupid idea of his, using his charm to wear them down and get them to see his way. He'd been sitting out of a lot of their usual activities lately.

"Nah, I'm keeping Bessie here company." Jesse patted the cow's neck as he continued to watch the others.

"The cows name is Bessie? How do you know."

"I named her that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah just now, but we go way back."

"I'm sure you do." Smokey nodded faintly with a grin. He couldn't tell who was out in the pasture just in front of them down the ridge but he watched them in silence for a moment before speaking again. "I say we take the money and run."

He could hear the grin in Jesse's tone. "That's my kind of thinking."

"There're witnesses, though."

Jesse turned to look at him in the dark and even by his posture, Smokey could tell he was mocking offense. "Bessie? She'd never tell a soul."

"You don't know that."

"Cover your ears, he's saying mean things."

"Are you talking to the cow?"

"Well yeah, her trustworthiness is in question."

"You are ridiculous."

"Now come on, Henry."

Jesse kicked his feet against the bottom post rail and for as old as the fence was, Smokey wasn't sure how it wasn't ready to split under his brother's weight. He went to speak and made a face when Jesse started up again.

"Just because I'm nationally known-"

"Probably internationally at this point..."

"Ok, _internationally_ known, doesn't mean that I can't have a sense of humor. You want me walking around acting like Piston all day long?"

"If you did there would at least be the excuse of the fame going to your head. He has no excuse." He heard Jesse's huff of amusement but refrained from continuing.

That happened a lot anymore, their teasing would fall short and the conversation would die until the subject changed. It felt strange, bantering back and forth without the third part of the equation stepping in with a smart remark, admonishing them and throwing out middle names. Smokey could no longer make out the figures of the others and could barely make out Jesse's profile beside him. When he asked how long they intended to be out there, it was explained that there was no time limit and that the other three had been pretty competitive when they'd all parted ways.

"So we could be here all night."

"I'm not staying all night..."

There was a whoop of laughter not far from them to the left and they both jumped in surprise, to the point of Jesse losing his balance on the fence and landing hard on his back. Smokey had begun laughing and only continued to laugh harder when Jesse hadn't been able to catch his arm in time.

"Are you ok?" He finally choked out.

"Yeah never better." Jesse ground through his teeth, sitting up and rubbing the small of his back with a hand.

"I win!" River's voice was suddenly much closer than before as he joined the two. They could hear something shouted from further down the ridge but couldn't make it out. Out of breath, he stopped at the fence and looked about until spotting Jesse. "Laying down on the job I see."

He pushed himself up and brushed off his jeans. "Yeah well, you know, I don't get paid nearly enough for this."

The money had fluttered off the fence rail with the breeze and River collected it quickly from the ground, shoving it in his back pocket.

"Hold on, how do we know you really won?"

"You didn't see?"

"It's black as pitch out there how are we going to see?"

"Well I'm not doing it again, that's harder than it looks."

There was what sounded almost like a scuffle and the sound of hoofbeats further behind River and they all turned just in time to see a smaller cow hefting itself back up off the ground and other cows scattering out of the way as Lou trudged back up the small hill. She brushed her hands off with a frown. "Never again."

"That...you actually did it..."

"Yeah I actually did it." They could just see her pointing in the general direction she had come.

"I just...didn't think it was possible..."

"Wait." She paused. "Did Scott already win?"

"I never actually saw-"

" _Yes_ , I won."

"But how do we know-"

"I won."

"I think Junior should be consulted." Smokey threw in. "It's his relative's property."

"When did you get here?"

" 'bout half hour ago."

"How'd you find us?" River asked, looking toward Jesse when he commented that that was a good question.

"It's a small town." Smokey huffed. "Not to mention your car's right on the edge of the road."

Jesse grinned in the dark, no one could ever argue that his brother wasn't smart. Sometimes he was on the wrong end of that but the eldest Hudson sibling could never be considered naive or easily confused.

Junior finally joined the group and when the situation was explained he didn't find it to be very fair either. River divvied up the money again, saying that next time they'd have to pick a night with a full moon so everyone could see who the _real_ winner was.

"I still can't believe that actually works."

"Seeing is believing."

Jesse shoved the cow's shoulder gently away from him, hoping to goad her back to the rest of those in the pasture. He jumped in to his brother's truck when they went to leave and gave him a brief run down of the evening's events that had led up to them being found in a cow pasture.

"Do you remember the couple of cows we had?" Smokey asked while lighting a cigarette.

Jesse thought a moment, his mouth pulling in a tight smile before he replied. "Daisy and Moo."

"We were creative kids."

"We had the cows because Momma hated goats."

"We only even had the cows because her sister's family was moving to the city and selling their farm."

Jesse glanced away from the road and toward his brother. "What were their names before?"

"Don't think they even had any...we only even kept them because Ruth was in love with them and dad gave her everything she wanted."

"She wasn't the only one."

"You're right." Smokey agreed after a pause. They may have teased each other through the years over what sibling was favored the most, but when it really came down to it, they had all been spoiled by their parents.

Jesse wanted to ask his opinion on what to do with the garden, they'd been avoiding the topic most of the spring, but planting season was soon approaching and if Jesse didn't get seeds started now they wouldn't be ready. Instead of asking, he decided what he was going to do and made it a statement as opposed to a question.

"I'm only gunna do half the garden this year..."

Smokey only nodded slowly, putting the cigarette to his mouth briefly before ashing it out the cracked window. "Thought you might."

The corner of Jesse's mouth turned up faintly and he leaned his head against his hand. It wasn't a long drive back to the house but it seemed to be taking ages that night.

When they finally pulled in to the drive, he looked in the direction of the garden, just able to make out some of the rotted plants from last year in the light cast from the headlights of River's car behind them. He hesitated a moment, hearing the other's voices as they all made it back to their own cars and discussed the weekend's race.

He'd get the seeds started in the morning, and start getting the ground prepped to plant in the next few weeks. He'd use the side Ruth had always claimed.

She'd always said that side was better anyway.


	37. Ruffling Feathers

"Could you please just stop." River muttered sarcastically, standing in front of his car as they waited for the usual prerace formalities to be out of the way.

"Stop what?" Jesse replied.

"Doing what you're doing."

"And what is it that I'm doing?"

He stared vacantly at the side of his car as he waited for an answer from River, arms crossed as he leaned back against the rail and kicked idly at his front tire. The _Twin-H-Power_ decal had caught his attention, why before that particular race he wasn't sure, but even as he spoke to the others the thought of the abbreviation for _twin Hudson_ had struck him out of nowhere. Jesse mentally shook himself free of any thoughts aside from racing and offered a grim smile when River finally did respond.

"Winning. That's what you're doing."

"It is the name of the game." He taunted lightly before they were both interrupted.

Smokey cut between the two and offered a mocking look of derision toward River. "Leave my racer alone or I'll have you reported."

"You can do that?"

"We can find out can't we?" He grinned when River raised his hands in defeat before turning toward Jesse. He lowered his tone and glanced sidelong toward the stands. "You're gunna need to keep your mouth shut the next few races, you're rubbing people the wrong way."

"Who's _people_?"

"These new-"

"These new admins need to stop _throwing their weight around._ " Jesse hissed lowly. "I know you agree with m-"

"Not here. Jesse." He shook his head in warning. "Not here..."

* * *

It had been a surprise the week before to a few of them to hear that entry fees had been raised for drivers, the answer many of them received being _the sponsors are taking care of entry fees, teams have nothing to worry about._

Jesse gave them that, they personally hadn't seen an entry fee out of pocket in years, and Mr. Kingsley had assured them it wasn't a problem.

"Keep doing what you're doing and I'll take care of the rest." They had made sure there was complete understanding in this new way of doing things.

What they hadn't expected was to hear that ticket prices for spectators had risen in cost as well.

It was during the delay before the race the week before that Jesse had approached someone with the question as to why. Track conditions had been questionable and while stretching his legs he'd been surprised to see a father and son leaving the ticket window. Instead of entering the stands they'd been heading back toward the parking lot.

"Forget something?" He'd asked with a faint grin, remembering any number of times something similar had happened when he was the boy's age.

"No-" The man had done a poor job of hiding his embarrassment, and was unable to stop his son before the boy launched in to a tearful admittance that they had saved and saved and _saved_ to see a Piston Race when it reached their nearest town but they still didn't have enough.

"We don't have enough for both tickets-"

Jesse had looked up at the man in surprise and shook his head, explaining that as far as he knew, all Piston tracks charged the same.

"They did." The man had replied. "But they just explained to us that tracks can now charge what they want."

He'd taken them back to an empty ticket window and spoke as pleasantly as possible with the girl behind the counter. It wasn't her fault people were being turned away. He'd scribbled a note and signed the bottom hastily before sliding it across to her and explained to make the others selling tickets aware as well. The race would be starting in twenty minutes, there couldn't be that many people still waiting to get in...

Jesse had turned to the man, explained that the girl would take care of them and told them to enjoy the race before leaving to find someone in administration. He'd probably been quite the sight, stalking through the thinning crowd as the spectators all searched for their sections in the stands, weaving in and out of people that continually glanced down at their ticket stub or glanced up at him in surprise as he passed. His racing jacket stuck out like a neon sign amidst the formal clothing of those attending, and he was sure it was quite the show when he had finally caught up to a few of those in administration that were present.

He'd run in to Joe first, who had looked him over in bemusement as another man spoke beside him.

"Hudson. Shouldn't you be down there?"

"I'm right where I want to be, thank you." He nodded briefly toward Moore. "Joe."

Joe had nodded in return. "Jesse, is something wrong?"

"Yeah. I want to know why everything is getting so expensive."

"Expensive?" The newer man, he had no idea of his name, asked. "This is a sport that-"

Jesse cut in. "Only certain people can attend? Participate in?" He continued before the other could get a word in, gesturing toward the main entrances. "Why are prices changing so abruptly? This is a roughneck pastime, it's not some high rolling elite entertainment."

"Mr. Hudson I'm sure those who wish to attend a race will be able to do so."

"No." He nearly snapped before catching himself. "Not everyone attends races wearing _Brooks Brothers_. I can't tell you how many people would be turned away-"

"You don't know."

"But I will." Jesse clarified. "I can let you know in a day's time, because _I'm_ the one picking up the tab."

He'd been able to scrape together pocket change to attend races in '50. It had more than tripled since. He wouldn't have even been able to stare from the outside of the fence links if prices had been that steep four years ago.

"That's your prerogative, Mr. Hudson."

Jesse had set his jaw and exchanged a look with Joe before relenting somewhat. Tilting his head in annoyance he nodded once. "True enough, but I think a few of us will be making some inquiries in the next few days. In the mean time I have a race to run and I'm sure you have something else that needs changing."

He hadn't stuck around to hear what had been said, but he had made sure to let Henry know of the whole situation before someone else could. Jesse knew those were the kind of encounters that could be spun a certain way, and he knew that if Joe hadn't been present, he would have been made to look like the one in the wrong. He probably still would be, but he'd have to wait and see.

In just the twenty minutes before the race started, Jesse picked up the remaining balances of fifty individuals who would have otherwise been unable to attend that week.

Henry knew he'd paint a target on his back with that exchange, just because they were the leading force of Piston Cup didn't mean they got away with everything. Egos and politics were dangerous. He knew Jesse's ego was the size of Georgia but he wasn't sure how good the kid was with the political arena.

They had started making calls and inquiring after certain changes that week, but were sent in circles until they were so frustrated they would hang up or agree to call at another time. When they'd shared what had happened with the others, they all wondered if cornering Moore would be beneficial to getting the information they needed. He was the administrator in charge of Thomasville, which made him the easiest to find and speak to face to face.

* * *

"-we're just drivers." Junior muttered, finally bringing them back to the present with his comment. "What do we know?"

"Not much." Jesse shrugged before stretching. "I drive in circles with my foot on the gas."

"If only it were that simple."

"It isn't?"

"Don't push it, Hudson."

"Touchy." He kicked at the front tire of the Hornet again, still looking over the paint job and decals vaguely as the others spoke.

"I told you, it's because he hasn't made any shine lately." Lou threw in her two cents.

"Well that's not _my_ fault." Jesse looked up and gestured to himself dramatically. "I'll take credit for your awful performance here on the track but anything else is-"

"Does he ever shut up."

"Not since I've known him..."

"-out of my hands...hey-"

Smokey rolled his eyes and pushed Jesse lightly toward the car. "If you're gunna sulk, sulk in the car. Preferably at the front of the pack at least."

"When am I ever _not_?"

"Sulking or at the front of the pack?" He smiled when Jesse realized he'd walked in to that comment.

* * *

Joe was happy that the betting involved with Piston Cup had nothing to do with the actual _running_ of Piston Cup. That kind of book keeping looked like a headache. He still stayed away from it, as an employee he knew that some looked upon the practice of betting as a conflict of interest. It was easier to just keep your hands clean than to open the door for questions or misunderstanding.

Not that there were times he didn't question his own personal rule. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd thought of stepping out of the press boxes and take a walk to the betting counters. Team #51 was the safe bet, nine times out of ten.

Team #51, the team that had carried the sport for the last few years, who were now seeing the ever changing face of the game. He'd been trying to do some digging without it really coming to anyone's attention. He'd been unaware of the inflation of costs at separate tracks until Hudson had shared that bit of information. Thomasville had never seen need to do so and he'd apparently been naive enough to think that all tracks ran the same way. Which was a mistake really in hindsight. Some of those tracks had more than doubled their renovations whereas Thomasville had really only tidied up a bit...

He knew Hudson was unhappy with a few of the latest developments and had spoken to the elder brother briefly when they'd crossed paths over the situation concerning sponsors. He'd considered it, he really had but he wasn't sure he knew enough concerning the mechanics of racing to hold that kind of position. Of course he knew mechanics well enough, what made a car run, he knew the legalities and everything his current position entailed but hadn't been sure about _ownership_. He should have considered it a little harder, some of these sponsors didn't look like they knew the first thing about Piston Cup...

Joe had agreed with the points Jesse had made a few weeks prior, and had been thinking over the ramifications since. How many possible future Piston drivers, team members, officials or administrators were being turned away because they couldn't afford to attend? Hudson was right. Piston Cup wasn't something only for the elite. It was literally built on the backs of moonshiners and kids who had nothing better to do than fix up their cars.

It might be too late in the season already to bring this forward. He'd certainly try, but it more than likely would be placed on the back burner until the following spring. To gather all teams and administration between races was nearly impossible, and they'd grown too large to just have small impromptu gatherings before or after a race. He wasn't even sure how he was able spend so much time in the main offices. Though it explained why he didn't have his own place. Why buy a house when you were never there?

Collecting the few files he'd come across, he threw them in a folder with a sigh and left his desk. Halfway down the hall he paused outside an open doorway and backtracked before knocking on the door frame.

"Come in."

"Miss Piston, I'm surprised to see you still here."

"Yes well. When you're the only one who seems to know how to organize something in alphabetical order..." She glanced up at him. "I could say the same for you."

Joe only raised a brow and tapped the thin folder against his free hand. "I'm doing research."

Emily crossed her arms over the top of the desk and eyed the folder he held. "Oh?"

"I suppose you don't know much about the differing track policies?"

"I'm afraid not." She gave him a knowing look. "Though I've heard some discrepancies."

She held a hand out and he passed the folder to her over the desk, watching as she looked over the meager amount of paperwork.

Without addressing the topic directly she flipped the folder closed and looked back up at him. "Is it alright if I keep this? I'm sure I can add to it in my down time. I do keep track of the majority of the paperwork."

Joe blinked in surprise, not expecting her to want to become involved.

"You can take it back whenever you need, but, well-" She glanced toward the door and back up at him. "No one goes through my work space."

He understood suddenly and nodded once, tapping the polished surface of the heavy desk. "Absolutely, Miss Piston."

They each said goodnight and he turned toward the door, glancing over his shoulder and replying to her parting comment before closing the door behind him.

"Have to look out for the little guy, right."

"Little guy...right...don't let that get back to him."


	38. Tensions Rise

Piston Cup may not have been the small time sport it had started as, but word still spread as quickly as rumors in the school yard. Teams had begun to question their local tracks and before anyone knew what was happening, the issue concerning the cost of admittance to a race was reaching the headlines of major national papers.

 _Publicity is publicity_ Emily had heard someone say through her partially opened door and she wrinkled her nose in disgust while still looking through the folder she'd taken from Joe. Now that it was public there wasn't much need for the forms they'd been able to find and put together but she still slid them in to the drawer and closed it quickly before looking up toward whoever had entered the room.

She only picked up her pen and continued her previous task of sorting withdraw forms when she realized it was Alex.

"Publicity is publicity...but their's isn't the name that's being tagged on to it."

She couldn't argue with that. Power might have belonged to different people now, but the name associated was still _Piston_.

Emily spoke without looking up. "What are the drivers saying?"

"They're all getting ornery." Alex muttered, throwing his hat on the edge of her desk.

Emily glanced up at it coolly before returning to her work. "I thought all drivers were ornery."

"Well, not _all...some_ maybe." Alex walked behind her desk and looked out the over sized windows toward the courtyard under construction. The lots surrounding the Piston Cup main offices had been purchased the year before and ground had recently been broken to give the facade of the sport a new look.

Edward Piston had purchased the properties himself, but timing was everything, and with the sudden rises in ticket costs, many saw the new renovations as _ostentatious_ and _unnecessary_.

But publicity was publicity, right?

Alex looked away from the work below them and toward his sister. "Any word on when they're finally going to-?"

"No." Emily cut him off. "Some dates have been mentioned for consideration but nothing has been finalized." She couldn't even imagine the size of the venue they would have to book. Teams, now sponsors and the ever growing crew of administrators and legal consultants would be a nightmare to all gather under one roof. It would be easier to just get them all on a track...

She glanced in his direction briefly, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else and when he didn't she finally put her pen down and turned her chair to look at him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

She glanced toward the window and back at him. "I can see that, but you never just _stop by_ my office. Don't you have a car to get ready for next week?"

He shrugged, still watching out the window. "Car doesn't need any work."

Emily raised a brow. "So what's the excuse for barely making top ten in the last month."

"Rookies are crowding the track."

She blinked a few times before raising both brows and staring sidelong out the window away from him with an unconvinced expression. She vaguely took in how the morning mist hung over the landscape and how the overcast skies lit the space they occupied brightly even as she replied. "Uh huh, ok, except it's not rookies that are winning."

"What do you know about racing, Emily?"

"More than you think."

Alex only eyed her a moment before stepping around the desk to collect his hat. She watched him as he went to leave and called after him to give her regards to the other drivers. She knew he wouldn't.

She never got an answer as to why he'd been there either.

* * *

They sat at their usual table at The Cotter Pin, speaking above the crowd and music as they waited for their drinks.

"They're all riled up at the track." Smokey flipped the coaster in front of him idly and watched it settle on the table before repeating the action.

"And they should be." Junior huffed. "They've been making money off drivers and fans for years. There's no reason for any of this."

Smokey only shrugged a shoulder. The bigger things got, the more complicated they became. They should have seen something like this coming eventually. Maybe not this soon, but at some point.

He looked away from the coaster that had seen better days and watched in silence as Jesse slid the ash tray from the middle of the table toward himself. Usually kids had an awkward stage when they picked up smoking and he'd laugh at the obvious fear they had of burning their fingers of even their clothes. Jesse hadn't seemed to have that problem, he'd expected to be able to rib him on it and had only ended up disappointed. Instead he took the lighter away from him before he had a chance to put it away and slid the ash tray to sit between them.

"What're they saying?" Jesse asked.

"Didn't get a chance to talk to anyone." Smokey muttered, handing the lighter back. "Just could tell they're all preoccupied. Got our practice time scheduled, though."

Junior spoke up again, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see when we had to _schedule_ practice times..."

"You can thank him for that." River added, pointing across to where Jesse sat. He only shrugged a shoulder when Lou nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Hud."

"Any time."

River changed the subject as their orders were all placed down in front of them. "Hey where's the race this week?"

"There isn't one." Smokey immediately replied.

"There isn't?"

He only shook his head, humming lowly.

"Come on, Scott. Didn't your _team owner_ notify you of the schedule?" Lou grinned.

"If it's my team owner's job then why does he know?" He gestured toward Smokey.

Jesse sat up in the corner of the booth, stretching his back and answering while spinning the glass in front of him. "Our sponsor just lets us do what we've always done." He glanced up briefly at Junior's muttered _lucky._

There was a lull in the conversation, even Junior refraining from his usual complaints over the changes they were undergoing. There was only so much complaining they could do before ultimately admitting that yes it was happening and there wasn't much they could do about it.

"I know what we're doing this weekend." Lou finally commented with a grin. When they all looked at her expectantly she only told them to meet her at the speedway at eight on Saturday.

* * *

"Alright, Nash. We're here. Are you explaining what we're doing now?"

"Not until we get there."

"Get where?" Junior asked.

"We got a drive ahead of us, stop asking questions and let's go." She stopped before getting in to her car and made sure to get everyone's attention. "Did I mention you need your racing gear?"

Her answer came with a chorus of groans and she smirked at how the Hudson brothers looked at each other in bemusement over the hood of Smokey's truck.

"I'll take that as a no. Alright, meet back here in half an hour."

Within an hour they were following the Nash Ambassador down the highway, they'd given Jesse a hard time over not bringing the Hornet and how he'd returned with Smokey. He'd told them that she'd said _racing gear_ not _car._ If this was supposed to be that important she would have clarified the need for their cars.

Lou had muttered to River that he really _should_ have brought his car but they were burning daylight and she wasn't going to argue over it.

Smokey had said something similar once they were on the road. "You probably should have brought the Hornet."

"It's ready for the race, I didn't want to go over it again..."

He'd give him that, it did usually take an entire day or so to make sure they were up to snuff, but it wasn't like they didn't have time on their hands either.

A few hours in to their drive and they were all wondering exactly where it was that Lou was taking them. Finally pulling on to a dirt road that wound through a dense area of pines, they came to a stop and immediately jumped out of their cars, stretching and complaining at once.

"My legs are gunna fall off."

"Oh please, that wasn't even as long as a race."

"Races are enjoyable."

"You weren't even driving, Hud. Shut up."

"You ever feel under appreciated?"

They grabbed their gear when Lou asked and followed her down a path that opened in to a clearing. They all stood in a line, holding various items, helmets, gloves or jackets and looked out over the homemade track Lou had brought them to.

Jesse was the first to speak, wearing his own helmet because he hadn't felt like carrying it. "What...am I looking at..."

"Welcome to Thunder Hollow."

They all stood in silent confusion as Louise explained that some distant cousins had set the track up years ago, clearing out the trees and brush to create a track for their own amusement.

"With all this talk about prices and things being too expensive it reminded me of this. This is where the _poor kids_ drive."

"Is that what you call it?" Smokey asked idly, spotting some vehicles parked near the main gates that weren't in the best condition.

Jesse followed his line of sight and balked. "You wanted me to bring my car _here_? No. No way would-"

"We'll provide you a _car_." She grinned and started down the slope toward the fenced area.

They weren't so quick to follow, and Junior muttered something about not seeing anyone around. River had elbowed him in the side, commenting that there was probably some strange call or signal to alert others that there were people present.

A group of kids their age all appeared at the other end of the clearing and River continued. "I told you. I _told_ you there was some-"

"Or I told them we'd be here at three on Saturday." Lou looked over her shoulder at him, raising a brow at his look of embarrassment at being caught.

They didn't catch their names, the kids spoke so fast, but it wasn't hard to tell how excited they were over the fact that there were _real_ Piston Cup drivers there. Jesse realized too late they'd been corralled in to this with her request of them bringing their gear. If they weren't recognizable before, they certainly were with their helmets and jackets.

One younger boy said something quickly and was off like a shot, unlocking the main entrance and sprinting toward a large lean-to. They all looked between themselves afraid of offending the kids, or Lou, but honestly were in the dark as to what was happening.

"Where's he going?"

"He's getting everything set up...you know this place gets pretty busy on a Saturday afternoon."

Jesse looked toward Smokey quickly, who only shrugged. "It-...what-"

"Lighten up, Hud. It's just some friendly competition."

They'd all slowly warmed up to the idea as they finally understood what exactly was going on. Some extremely beat up vehicles were all brought out of the lean-to and parked in front of the small section for spectators, which Lou had stressed was free, commenting that they wouldn't be seeing any of these people at a sanctioned Piston Cup race.

"We'll bring Piston to them." Junior finally caught on.

"Well." Lou had looked over the cars provided. "Yes and no."

As people did begin to show up and start milling around they realized this was a bigger deal than they'd originally expected. They were all recognized immediately and it suddenly turned in to the usual prerace happenings, except this time there was no rule keeping anyone on one side of the track walls.

There was obviously no official start time, and finally getting a few moments to breathe, Jesse stepped aside with Smokey.

"Do you really think this is a good idea..."

He wasn't used to seeing Jesse out of his element, especially near a track but realized there was such a lack of actual structure that none of them were really completely comfortable.

"If you don't want to drive, don't drive."

"They expect us to. I can't turn all these people down-"

"Then why are you asking me."

"I-..." Jesse really wasn't sure. He couldn't tell if he wanted his brother to make a decision as his crew chief to keep him from participating or if he was hoping he'd talk him in to it.

Smokey put a hand on his shoulder to really get his attention. "Hollywood."

It had been a while since he'd called him that, Jesse had noticed Henry following the others in their use of the name Hud more and more. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

With a huff, Jesse looked away from the cars and met his eyes.

"Have fun, hmm?"

It was more fun than he'd expected. The first half of the race he'd been too analytical, treating it like a sanctioned race and growing more and more frustrated with every turn. The track surface was no different than what he'd always driven on, but the car was scrap metal and he'd been miserable until River had purposefully shoved him in to the grass. It had taken that moment of gathering himself and getting the car to respond for him to actually get out of his head and just _drive._ This wasn't really a _race,_ it was reckless, thoughtless and absolutely ridiculous. Throughout the rest of the race, if it could be called a race because he wasn't sure there were actual laps being counted, it was more like when the sun disappeared over the line of trees that they were finished and no one was even sure who won.

The crowd might not have been nearly as large as what they'd become used to, but the excitement was genuine and the amount of people that approached them was overwhelming. Before evening wore on and the lighting became too low, they were approached for a group picture on the wooden bleachers and had only been too happy to oblige. The man with the camera promised to get a copy to Lou's extended family, who'd make sure it got to her.

They'd split up driving back that evening, knowing how to get home once they were back on the highway.

Jesse locked his door the way he always did before leaning against it. "That was the dumbest thing I've ever done."

"I can think of worse..."

He only shot a look across the truck cab before shrugging and getting comfortable for a long drive home. They'd spent the drive discussing projects that needed finished at the homestead, with there being no race that weekend they could concentrate on chores that had gone by the wayside. Smokey knew Jesse would want to work on the garden first, he'd refused to let it get overgrown that year, claiming that with the fact that it was half the size he had no excuse.

* * *

The others were supposed to all meet at the house in the afternoon but Lou had gotten there early. She'd gotten out of the car and huffed in faint amusement as she'd crossed the yard. It made sense, she supposed, but she'd never really considered the fact that boys did all their own housework. It was a strange sight to see Jesse Hudson, in those recognizable aviators, pulling clothes off a clothesline and throwing them in to a basket.

"You want help?"

"Nah." He spoke around a clothes pin. "I got it."

"If you're sure."

He'd only hummed an affirmative before commenting. "Nearly done anyway."

Lou shrugged and went to the house, making herself at home and sitting at the table on the porch as Jesse threw the basket on a chair and started sorting through shirts.

"I've never seen you actually work."

"Stop the presses."

"I didn't know you even knew how to do any of this."

He glanced up at her, and she could almost see the raised brow behind his sunglasses. "Since I was fifteen."

She fell silent and refrained from asking once more if he wanted any help for fear of offending him. Instead of staring at the mundane task of folding laundry, she looked out across the yard and over the garden. While she'd never say anything, she wondered idly what Jesse intended to do with the produce. What was left of the garden was still too much for one person, even two if he split it with Smokey. Maybe she'd be getting food shoved in to her hands by the end of the season...

She was dragged from her thoughts when the screen door slapped against the frame and Jesse disappeared in to the house long enough to throw the basket on the couch in the living room and return to the porch.

"I gotta run over to the garage. You wanna stay here or come with."

"I'll come."

He commented that he hoped one of the bays in his brother's garage was available, but that he'd settle for working in the parking lot if he had to. "Thought we had everything ready for next week but noticed it didn't sound right this morning."

She wouldn't know, but she figured he wouldn't notice anything off with her car either. "You don't have what you need at the house?"

"Henry's is always better."

He might be biased, but she was fairly sure that in this case, he was right.

Luckily the last bay was available and when Jesse asked if it would be used at all that afternoon he'd been given the green light to take it.

Smokey had watched him back the Hornet in to the space and spoke when he jumped out. "Let me look at it when you're done."

Jesse had just nodded before getting to work.

Nearly half an hour had gone by and he straightened from where he'd been leaning over the side of the car to see beneath the hood and apologized. "I didn't think this was going to take very long. You want a ride back so you're not stuck here?"

She'd turned the offer down, it was either sit around there or sit around at their house. She wasn't sure she'd be comfortable alone in someone else's home like that.

His quick project turned in to a headache that would take up most of the afternoon. Smokey had been able to walk away from his projects a few times to help and they'd been able to get to the root of the problem. It was just getting everything cleaned up afterward that was going to take another good hour or so. Lou had found an old chair near the back of the space and was reading through an article concerning the current conflict in Piston Cup and tried to get Jesse's attention. The half hour-turned-three hour project had left him in a sour mood, though, aside from his attention being solely on the Hornet.

 **"** Hey, Jesse did you read about-" She glanced toward the front of the garage bay and was just barely able to make out where he was standing in front of the car, his silhouette nearly hidden by the vehicle between them. "Jesse. Hud..."

Jesse straightened again and pushed a hand against the small of his back. Three hours over an engine was murder. He could tell Lou had said something but with the radio on he figured she was just singing along.

"Hey Hud...Hollywood-" That wasn't really a name any of them used for him but she thought she'd try.

Still nothing.

"Jesse... _Jesse Aaron_!"

That had certainly gotten his attention and from what she could see of him still working on the Hornet, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin. His expression darkened as he looked at her quickly from around the side of the car. "I'd prefer if you didn't call me that."

"What, your name?"

"You know what I mean."

She watched him a moment as he busied himself with cleaning his hands on a rag and instead of letting it go, she pushed instead.

"Maybe you should make a list of rules for what we are and aren't allowed to do."

He only watched her with narrowed eyes before reaching for a few of the tools he'd been using.

His silence only goaded her on. "It's like walking on eggshells around you anymore, Hudson. No one knows how to act around you."

"You don't act any different."

"We do. Junior and Ri-"

"You're talking for them now?" He let the hood of the Hornet fall shut before turning his attention back on her.

"I'm just pointing out what _everyone_ has noticed."

"Well I'm glad to know I can provide topic of conversation for everyone while I'm not around."

"We don't-" She gestured in frustration, the newspaper forgotten behind her on a work table. "We don't talk about you behind you're back. Just- we're concerned..."

"Over what?"

His tone alone answered the question. Their current argument answered the question. He was so quick to anger anymore. Or if it wasn't anger, it was a quiet disinterest that no one knew how to approach.

"She isn't coming back, Jesse, and you can't replace her. You have to move on."

The garage bay was silent and they stared at each other for a long moment before Jesse seemed to suddenly remember himself. His eyes hardened even as his face paled and he grabbed the tools in one hand. Kicking the bottom drawer of the tool chest closed quickly he disappeared around the corner and Lou could hear him returning tools to their rightful place with more force than was obviously necessary.

Smokey had looked in to the first bay from the small space he could barely pass off as an office. "What's wrong? Didn't that work?"

"The Hornet's fine." Jesse ground through his teeth.

"Then what-?"

"Tell the others I'm sorry but I won't be back to the house till late."

"Why?"

"Going for a drive." He snatched the keys to the old Ford from the wall as he passed and didn't slow down when Smokey followed him.

"Why not your own car?"

"Because maybe I don't want to be recognized for once."

He stood with his hands on his hips and he watched in confused irritation as the Ford Jesse had won his first race in backed out of the lot and left in the direction of town. Turning back to the garage he found Lou still standing awkwardly in the bay the Hornet occupied.

"What the hell just happened?"

* * *

They'd canceled the plans for that afternoon but Henry stayed at the house on the back porch until nightfall and watched in silence as the headlights of the Ford lit the yard when Jesse pulled in to the drive and eventually lit the garden once he'd parked. He made no move to get up and stayed where he was even as Jesse made it up the steps and tossed the keys on the table.

"You feel better?"

"No."

He only nodded and lit the cigarette he'd been turning in his hand, but handed it to Jesse as he sat beside him.

That was the end of the conversation concerning that afternoon.

"Car back in shape?"

"Mmm...want you to look at it again..." Jesse murmured as he stared across the yard. He exhaled slowly and ashed the cigarette he'd been handed over the edge of the porch rail. "Where's the race next week..."

"Got locations for the rest of the month actually. Next week's Motor Speedway, then some new track that's just been finished."

Jesse hummed in acknowledgment. "Then where?"

He watched Jesse's profile for a moment against the spotlight of the barn, just able to make out his features as he tried to gauge his current mood. They were both going through their ups and downs and he'd told Lou that it was going to be quite a while before they saw the Jesse they knew, if they ever did see him again. The hole in their fragile family had been widened ten fold and the only two remaining weren't able to bounce back the way they were expected to. They were both hurting, and the one who'd always been able to get them to face whatever hurts they tried to bury was no longer there. Lou might have been trying to get him to see reason, but it wasn't that Jesse didn't see it.

It's that he didn't want to admit it, and forcing Jesse Hudson in to anything never worked for anyone.

He suddenly realized that Jesse was looking at him expectantly and realized that he'd never answered his last question.

"What?"

"Where's the race after this new track?"

"Oh." Where was it again? He'd just told Jesse he knew where all the races that month were. He'd just read it on the schedule at Thomasville when he stopped in. The sand track, yeah, Jesse would love that...

"Fireball Beach."


	39. We Should Have Scratched

**AN: I've noticed going through some of my notes, that the oneshots in Life's Highway won't line up absolutely with this. Such is the trouble with writing things out of order.**

* * *

They'd been forced to return to Palm Mile because track officials had realized the newly finished track that had been on the race schedule wasn't exactly to new regulation standards. Smokey had made the comment on the drive home that for some reason it was always Palm Mile they were sent to if there was anything questionable concerning whatever track they were meant to be at. Jesse pointed out that it must have been the most central location for most teams, and they could have pulled out a map to see if they were right but neither of them were really that interested in testing their theory. They'd arrived at the track they were expected to be present for, won soundly, and were already on their way home.

"Palm Mile's alright..." Jesse squinted against the sun as he grabbed a new shirt from the duffel bag he always brought and changed out of the dirt covered shirt from the race. "Like dirt-"

"Better, though. I know." Smokey grinned. "After next week it's dirt tracks for the rest of the season."

Jesse scratched at the back of his head with both hands, ruffling his hair in an attempt to get rid of _some_ of the helmet hair he always dealt with after a race. Rolling the window down, he hung his arm out to appreciate the breeze after an afternoon in a hot dusty car. "Where'd this season go anyway?"

Smokey only shook his head. "Got me..." Here they were nearing the end of August. The garden, as small as it was, had been hard enough to keep up with. It seemed like every time they turned around there was something that needed attention. They'd kept up with it pretty well, though.

Silence fell over them and after a few miles of straight highway, Smokey looked across the cab. "What's up?"

Jesse didn't look away from the landscape and muttered lowly. "Dipper."

Smokey hummed, having an idea he'd been thinking of Ruth. They were getting close to that time, not the date of her death necessarily but everything that had led up to it. He'd be a liar if he said he hadn't been thinking of her lately also, then again neither of them had ever really stopped.

Jesse slouched in his seat, still staring out the window. "I might withdraw next week."

"Well you have till Wednesday to decide, but you do this all the time."

"I know."

It was one of the more important tracks but it wouldn't hurt their chances that much. Jesse already had sixteen races to his name that season and there was still a little over three months left.

"Well if you do, what am I supposed to tell Kingsley?"

"That I'm sick or something." Jesse shrugged with a smirk. "I dunno. He wouldn't have paid the entry yet anyway so it's no skin off his nose."

Smokey tilted his head briefly in agreement before commenting lowly. "Well, his nose is big enough..."

A startled bark of laughter escaped Jesse at that. It wasn't even that funny but Smokey would take it. He grinned and looked across the cab of the truck, laughing more because Jesse was laughing than because of what he'd said.

* * *

"Ugh..." Smokey groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "We really should have scratched..."

"This track is a mess." Jesse muttered with a look of poorly veiled disdain as he stood with his arms crossed and surveyed the terrain in front of them.

That entire week leading up to the race, storms had pummeled the coastline, high winds had damaged areas further inland and had made it nearly impossible for crews to get the temporary bleachers and stands in place. Workers had only just succeeded at the last minute that morning. The Hudson brothers stood just on the outside of the Hornet, looking up and down the waterline at the debris washed up on shore and the uneven lines of water packed sand.

"Keep it up here as much as possible..." Smokey gestured to the dryer looking sections of the track.

"I'm surprised they didn't send us back to Palm Mile."

"That would have been their best bet."

Junior approached on Smokey's other side, looking out over the beach riddled with seaweed and driftwood. "A couple laps and it'll take care of itself."

"Hopefully."

"Something else they should look in to." Smokey huffed. "These tracks should be in peak condition if they expect good races."

Jesse yawned and stretched his arms in either direction. "Up at four in the morning for this. What's the delay for anyway?"

"Who knows, but take advantage of it and get some rest."

Within moments he was on his own, Jesse doing exactly as he was told and Junior returning to his own team.

The dynamics of their group had been a little strained after the brief argument between Jesse and Lou but the others had only shrugged when it was explained to them. If they weren't part of the conflict they weren't going to take sides. That was something the two had to figure out on their own.

Smokey huffed as he mulled the situation over. Standing at the opened door of his truck, he tossed Jesse's duffel out of the way for the time being and flipped through the papers in a manila folder that had been stowed away in the narrow break between the seats. He read over the half filled withdraw slip, because Jesse had really considered before finally deciding against it. He crumpled the sheet in one hand while looking for anything else he could clear up and throw away. Closing the truck door with his foot, he found the nearest waste bin and then tried to find something to bide his time for the next hour. He spoke to other crew chiefs, a few admins he recognized and was introduced to some he didn't. Before he knew it forty-five minutes had passed, and glancing at the watch he'd gotten for his birthday how many years ago, he started back toward their place in the line up.

He paused briefly to look over the side panels of the Hornet from where he stood. He truly cared about that car but not even half as much as he cared about the kid that was currently sleeping in the reclined driver's seat. He wished he could figure out exactly how to convey that to Jesse but he wasn't good at that kind of thing. That had been Ruth's department. She was the one who was in tune with her siblings' thoughts and feelings and how to express them, and he certainly wasn't Ruth. Jesse was all that was left, and what a pair the brothers made...two hard headed boys who didn't know how to face their problems...

He shook his head as if to physically rid himself of those thoughts and walked up and hit the door a few times with an open palm, smirking when Jesse jumped and hit his knee on the steering wheel.

"Get up. I don't want you half asleep for when this race starts."

"I won't be."

"Uh huh. Come on..."

Jesse stretched and rolled his neck groggily before pushing the door open and standing slowly. He stretched his arms above his head again and groaned, speaking in a mockingly whiny tone. "We should have scratched...Henry..."

"Is that actual strategy or laziness talking?"

"Does it matter?"

They both looked up when the others approached and then out toward the water as the conversation returned to the condition of the track.

"I bet there's even wildlife running for shelter out there." Junior smirked.

"Nah." Smokey knew what was coming but continued anyway. "The crabs have all gone to bed."

"You didn't really-"

"I did."

The punch to his shoulder probably could have hurt but he'd anticipated it. Jesse had nothing on him anyway. He grinned and laughed as they shared a knowing look while the others watched in confused silence.

"That's first call..." River muttered at the sound over the loudspeakers.

"Let's just get this over with." Junior replied. No one was particularly looking forward to the next few hours, but the sooner they got out on to the track, the sooner it was over.

Surprising to those in the infield, it seemed to be a regular run of the mill race. There'd been little to no upset aside from a car that apparently hadn't been brought up to speed the week before and a few blown tires, but that generally happened at any track. One thing Smokey didn't care much for was that with the way the bleachers were staged, he'd completely lose sight of Jesse for a time until they came back around the far turn. It wasn't something he was used to and while not a major wrench in the wheel spokes, it was still an inconvenience.

Coming around one of those turns he was surprised to see the Hornet swing wide and was concerned with how poorly it seemed to handle, only realizing then that Jesse was bringing it back toward him and their space. He'd blown a tire. The driver's side rear was completely flat, the thin rubber worn to shreds around where it had been punctured.

The look on Jesse's face as he slammed the door of the car told Smokey just how poorly this race was really going, despite how it looked to the onlookers.

"They didn't even touch this track!" He spat while running for a tire iron.

Smokey rolled a new tire forward and glanced over his shoulder as Jesse vented to an admin who was unfortunate enough to be track side.

Jesse pointed toward the beach violently and Smokey couldn't remember the last time Jesse had gotten out of the car midrace, he only did so if it was important.

"There's driftwood everywhere out there!"

"Hollywood, just give me the iron-…"

"You up the entry fees every year _and_ the cost for spectators but don't even take a day to send a crew-"

"Give me the iron-" Smokey knelt beside the car, holding a hand out patiently.

"How are we supposed to-"

"Jesse!" He finally snapped, getting his brother's attention away from the hapless pencil pusher. "Just shut up! Give me the iron and get back in that car before you're a full lap behind!"

He had to jerk his head back to keep from getting hit in the face with it when Jesse finally held it out. The kid ran around to check the rest of the tires as he changed the left rear.

"You gotta lot of ground to make up."

"If someone had _done their job_ -"

"Don't worry about it now." Smokey hit the back of his helmet encouragingly. "Just do what you always do."

"I'm gunna be at the back of the pack-"

"I don't see that stopping you. Go."

He wasn't surprised to see Jesse work his way up through the ranks, with every lap he seemed to pick up at least one or two positions and before he knew it Jesse was once again in good standing. There was more than enough time to get out in front, he knew he'd just be waiting for his chance at this point. They hadn't been dominating for three and a half years to not know what they were doing.

He leaned a shoulder against the support beam of one of the temporary structures and watched in silence, trying to gauge when Jesse might make his move. Being unable to see the entire track made that a difficult task, though.

Three laps later he muttered to himself that Jesse better be thinking of doing _something_ because he'd been hanging around tenth a little too long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd run that far back, maybe it was throwing him off. He straightened as the field of cars came back in to view around the far turn and his previous look of uncertainty faded in to a broad smile to see the Hornet in front. Only Jesse could pick up that many positions on a _turn._

The Hornet barrelled past him and he could barely hear himself over the sound of officials, race fans and other teams. "That's how you do it kid!"

Jesse had a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, chanced a look up in the rear view mirror and grinned at the distance between himself and the second place car. He'd worked up through the gears quickly coming out of the turn, this race was a cinch.

He grit his teeth, though, when the right rear tire felt like it must have blown, the first thing to come to mind being that he'd just made up all that ground only to lose it again. He counter steered to bring it out of the fishtail but when the Hornet didn't respond the way he expected he felt the car turn broadside across the track. He let go of the wheel, time slowing to a crawl as he realized he'd lost control and he closed his eyes as the sand came rushing up at him from the opposite side of the Hornet.

"Get 'er under control-..." Smokey had taken a step forward when the Hornet had begun to struggle, thinking the same thing Jesse had until his worst fear of the sport became reality, right there in front of him. " _Jesse!_ "

It wasn't some random driver, it was Jesse...in a car tumbling across the beach, _airborne_ , before landing over and over again on it's hood as it continued it's violent trek down the stretch of sand.

He was running before the Hornet had come to a stop, jumping the temporary rail and only stopping when his path was blocked by three officials and two admins.

"You have to let me out there!"

Some official he didn't know held a hand up against his chest and he pushed it away indignantly even as the man spoke. "You need to let them do their jobs, Hudson."

"Who?" He shouted. "There's no one out there!" He gestured toward the twisted frame of the Hornet, afraid to look too close. What if Jesse was beyond help...the car certainly looked it.

They should have scratched. They should have scratched. He should have listened to Jesse and just finished the form.

 _They should have scratched._

When the car finally came to a stop, rocking dangerously on what was left of its axles, Jesse struggled to even see straight. In a blind panic his body screamed for him to _move! Do something! Get out of the car!_

He blinked and shook his head, the helmet weighed him down and felt like a vice tightening around his ears. He just needed to get out of there. He was sure once his feet were on solid ground the violent shaking in his limbs would stop. His right arm was sluggish and refused to take initiative so he was left yanking the helmet loose with his left hand as he kicked the door open. He grit his teeth and spit sand, only realizing how much his chest hurt once he coughed harshly. He must have bitten his tongue, the taste of iron overtaking his senses.

He just needed out of the car. Once he made it back to medical he'd be fine. They would patch whatever bumps and bruises were causing such hellacious pain and he'd be ok.

His head swam as he struggled out of the car and stood up. His senses had dulled but through the mind numbing pain he could vaguely tell that the race had been stopped. He could hear sirens, but that didn't make much sense...

Medical was on their way….?

They didn't need to come on to the track, he would just go there….

He just needed to get back to where Henry was. Henry would get him to medical and it would be fine. Jesse cradled his right arm against himself and forced his feet to move. Looking down, he watched his shoes as he willed himself forward, at least to get off the track. He must have really hit his head, his vision blurred and he listed to the side before everything went black.

The next thing he knew he was lying on the ground looking up at the sky. A number of faces he didn't recognize all crowded his vision but he didn't have the energy to speak.

Couldn't they just get him back to medical? Where was Henry?

"At least give him a syrette for pain, we'll stabilize him on the way."

Yeah do that, whatever a syrette was, if it took pain away he'd like three, please.

He felt a jab in his leg and flinched, ironic as it was nothing compared to the rest of him. Within moments he went unpleasantly numb and subsequently lost consciousness at the same time.

Smokey nearly shoved his way through the wall of men that were blocking him. Having seen the medical crews getting Jesse in to the back of the small ambulance. "I need to know what's going on. What don't you-"

"Henry!"

He turned at the firm grasp on his arm and only kept himself from rounding on the newcomer upon seeing that it was River.

His expression was urgent, pleading. "They told us where they're taking him."

Smokey glanced over River's shoulder to see that all drivers were out of their cars, barricades had been put in place and he'd either jumped those too or he'd made it as far as he did before they'd gotten them out. He looked out to the track and back at the Hornet, that was twisted and dented and _smoking_ , before meeting River's eyes again.

"He needs you _there_ , Smokey."

He seemed to suddenly snap out of it, shaking his head before nodding. "Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

The drive to the hospital was silent, and he might have said something as they entered the emergency wing of the building but he wasn't sure. The others had all joined him in the waiting room and he vaguely wondered about calling Joan, but he didn't want to leave the room either.

Every time a nurse or doctor passed the nurse's station he looked up to see if they'd be walking through the large entryway, hoping to hear something but afraid to at the same time. He leaned back in the most uncomfortable chair he'd ever been unfortunate enough to sit in and bounced his knee in agitation. His anxiety spiked whenever activity seemed to pick up on the other side of the station or medical staff seemed to be in a hurry over anything. Getting up, he finally did decide he'd make a call, if only to let Joan know he'd probably be out of town for a while...

He stood at the phone and hesitated as he put the receiver to his ear, listening to the conversation at the counter behind him.

"Keep the surrounding hospitals informed, we may have a need for blood donors."

"Should I-"

"There's no certainty yet, I'll let you know."

That had to be for someone else, they couldn't be talking about Jesse.

He'd had to leave a message and fought the urge to pace the waiting room. It really wasn't fair to family to leave them with no word as to what was going on. At least telling him _we have your brother in our care_ would have been a step up from what he'd gotten so far.

He hadn't gotten to _see_ him. He couldn't even make an estimated guess as to what was going on. They could come out at any moment to let him know that they'd done everything they could but that Jesse had ultimately succumbed to his injuries...

Jesse...Hollywood...Jesse Aaron...

Seconds felt like hours and he glanced up at the clock once, making the vague connection that it was nearly evening. He asked Junior what time they'd gotten there but he didn't know, nor did the other two.

Finally, a heavy wooden door was pushed open and a petite nurse in a white dress called his name. He stood hesitantly and straightened his shirt before holding the door open for her to walk back through and follow her in to the patient area. He hadn't gotten a chance to look over the room numbers before he was pulled aside by a doctor in a white coat.

"Mr. Hudson?"

"Yes..."

"Come with me, son."

He was led in to a small room and the door was closed behind them. His stomach dropped and his heart raced, he was going to tell him his brother had passed. He couldn't...he wasn't ready...

"Your brother is stable."

He shifted his weight nervously, running a hand over his face and exhaling harshly. "Ok..."

The doctor was a man who appeared to be in his late sixties, kind in the face and expression understanding as he offered the only chair in the room. The _consultation room_ , as Henry read on the back of the door, was barely the size of a closet, only white walls and floor.

"My name is Dr. Thompson. Myself and those I choose will be taking care of Jesse."

He only nodded faintly, he just wanted to know how he was.

Dr. Thompson wrung his hands together, leaning back against the opposite wall. "I can't sugar coat things for you, son, this is going to be a long road."

"Ok..." He had a feeling he'd be saying that a lot..

The doctor started from the top, knowing if he got the worst of his explanations out of the way, the young man before him would have a better understanding in the days and weeks to come.

"Now he's stable, but not conscious. Jesse has-" He paused. "-a multitude of injuries, one of the worst being a traumatic injury to the head, but seeing as he is not conscious is actually considered a good thing at the moment. It's giving his body a chance to begin the healing process without the stress of those injuries."

Henry only nodded.

"Along with this, he's suffered fractures to his right arm. His ribs have taken a beating but he's young and otherwise in good health. Bones only take weeks to mend. What we did find to be concerning was that when he first arrived he had massive amounts of bruising to the right side." He gestured on himself as a point of reference. "That bruising and swelling only continued to worsen as we stabilized him. We did operate, and found internal trauma, but were able to suture all areas that were bleeding."

Henry had no idea how to react, he bit at the inside of his cheek and nodded again. Was that everything? Was he supposed to ask something?

"Now, I did remove his appendix as precaution. It hadn't ruptured but with the amount of trauma and damage to the tissues surrounding it would have been likely that it would have become agitated, inflamed, or even infected within the next few days. We usually seek permission but in such circumstances-"

Henry shook his head. "No, whatever...whatever you need to do-"

"Is there someone I can contact? Next of kin?"

"I am the next of kin..."

Dr. Thompson moved to open the door and hesitated. "For as horrible as his injuries are. He's fortunate that an accident of this caliber didn't kill him instantly."

Henry felt his teeth clamp together as he eyed the man quietly. That's not exactly what he wanted to hear, and he fought to keep from showing his offense.

"You misunderstand me, son. The fractures to your brother's arm are evidence that he protected himself. He may have been wearing a helmet but he's lucky it's only a severe concussion and not a fracture to the skull, or even his neck."

Henry was silent as he was then led out of the room and down the hall, the doctor stepping in to his brother's room quickly and he heard him ask the nurse to _give the boy's brother a moment_.

The nurse was a middle aged, round faced and short woman who smiled comfortingly and patted his arm before putting a small sign on the door knob and telling him to close it behind him. He'd nodded once more, feeling like that's all he was capable of doing before taking a hesitant step in to the room.

He stood just inside the threshold and sucked a breath through his teeth when he got the nerve to look in Jesse's direction.

He'd never seen medicine like this and he was fairly versed in what took place in hospitals. He knew intravenous was possible, hearing about the use in the Second World War but he didn't know anything about it. It looked like something straight out of Frankenstein. Jesse had something in his good arm and the hand of his bad arm just beneath where they had finished the cast, there was bandaging around the side of his head and a heavy looking band around his chest. He was sure there was bandaging around his abdomen where they'd operated, and worst of all, was some kind of heavy looking mask covering his nose and mouth.

He cursed lowly, hissing in the silence of the room as he ran a hand through his hair and continued to look over his brother's still form. Jesse had been so animated only a few hours ago, yelling at some hapless administrator over the condition of the track.

Look what it had done...look at what that track had done...

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed the door open until a man a little older than himself entered the room, removing the sign from the door knob and hanging it on the wall beside them.

"It's a ventilator." He commented, seeing where Henry's eyes remained trained. "It will help unless he needs a tank respirator."

"Tank respirator..." Henry echoed distractedly.

"They're for-"

"I know what they're for." He cut the young doctor off.

The man took it in stride, used to dealing with stressed patients and family members. "You're welcome to stay, but I'll be checking his vitals every so often..."

"Ok..." He was really going to need to come up with another one word answer...

"You did get a call, though."

His eyes narrowed in thought as he watched the man taking Jesse's pulse before scribbling something on a clipboard he'd brought with him. He commented lowly that he'd be back as soon as he found out what was going on. Hopefully it was Joan calling back...

No, someone with Piston Cup had called and left a message at the nurse's station for him to contact them. He'd barely kept his voice down when he was told he needed to return to the track to retrieve the Hornet.

"You've got to be kidding me." He hissed in to the receiver. "Jesse is considered critical and you want me to- right you know what. Fine. I'll be there, but send someone around to get me. I forgot my _truck_ in the chaos this afternoon."

Hanging up the phone he made it back to Jesse's room and waited until the man had left to sit in the chair beside his brother's bed. He leaned forward and looked over Jesse's profile, frighteningly pale and sickly in the afternoon light. How could someone so lively be sitting on death's doorstep in a matter of hours? How could they expect him to just leave the hospital for a car?

How could he have _agreed_?

"Don't you even think of going anywhere." He muttered softly. "You hear me? You can't check out yet, especially while I'm not here..." Hesitating, he looked away briefly before running a hand over his face again. "I'll be back, it won't take long...I don't even know if you can hear me...but I'll be back in an hour..."

The room remained silent, and he watched Jesse's chest rise and fall with each shallow breath.

He stood slowly as the door opened again and Dr. Thompson entered with the younger man who'd been in before, explaining something briefly about needing the tank respirator after all.

That was his cue to leave, he didn't want to around for that.

A nurse stopped him in the hallway and he paused with a harried expression as she put a large paper bag in his hands. "Your brother's things."

"Yeah...ok, thanks..."

Reaching the waiting room, he explained the situation to the others and was forced to hold a hand up when they began to protest in unison.

"It's not worth it...really it's not...I'll meet you back at the hotel..."

He'd wanted to shove this in the face of whoever it was that decided this needed to be done anyway, force them to get their hands dirty and maybe actually work for once. He didn't get the chance though, as Joe stood on the walk just outside the main doors. His face was pale and etched with concern as he answered Henry's unspoken question.

"I volunteered...I'm the admin for Thomasville so..."

He knew there was a reason he liked Joe.

He gave a brief run down of what the doctor had told him as they pulled up to the dunes of the beach. He hopped out and immediately went to his truck, throwing the bag of Jesse's things beside his duffel and getting the truck parked in front of the Hornet.

He had to be objective, it was just a car. He was twenty-eight for crying out loud he could handle this...

Looking up the length of the beach, though, he could make out every gouge in the ground, every place the Hornet had flipped back in to the unforgiving sand. His feet sank as he walked back up the waterline and he wondered vaguely how something so unstable could cause the amount of damage it had. Coming up to the area he assumed Jesse had originally lost control, he looked back toward the tangled frame of his brother's beloved car.

So far down the stretch of beach...

Looking back down, he turned in a circle and paused, stooping to see what was buried beneath his foot. He brushed the sand away with his fingers before huffing and resting his arm over a knee.

Driftwood...

A much larger piece than he originally thought. It had to have blown the tire...or maybe caught somehow...

It really didn't matter.

He stood back up and brushed his hands on his jeans before catching up with Joe, who had given him the space he'd needed to look over the evidence of his brother's crash, and both were silent as they worked on getting the Hornet loaded.

He'd have to tell Jesse that his car had been treated well. That _someone_ in the higher ups cared.

He thanked Joe as they parted ways, nodding when he was asked to keep them updated and was on the road again before he knew it. It wasn't a long drive, but every little community, every stretch of highway and intersection, he could feel onlookers staring at the Hornet and it was for a far different reason than they usually would. When he'd finally had enough of the busted out windshield mocking him in the rear view mirror, he pulled off the road under an overpass and threw the truck in park. Looking away from the mirror, his attention fell on the paper bag he'd been handed on his way out of the hospital and he hesitated before reaching for it.

Jesse's sunglasses were amazingly intact. Why he'd had them in the car, he didn't know. Jesse never wore them during a race, but there they were, without a crack or scratch on them. His racing jacket was the only other item in the bag and he stared at the small 51 on the front, holding the fabric in a white knuckle grip. The fabric Ruth had been so careful in choosing, asking his opinion when he knew nothing about complimentary colors. His gaze shifted to the collar, and he wouldn't have noticed it at first given the dark navy color, but there was a section of yellow piping stained red.

Henry Hudson wasn't a crier, but sitting alone in the truck his brother had helped purchase, hauling what was left of the vehicle that had taken them so far, he held the jacket like it was an extension of Jesse himself. If he didn't let it go, he didn't let Jesse go.

"I know you miss her, Jesse. I know. I do too, but you can't leave me alone like this."


	40. Word Spreads

**My babies D:**

* * *

She'd heard about it while the plane was unloading on her return east.

Emily had grabbed her small amount of luggage from the overhead on the PanAm flight. Mentally preparing herself for the cab ride home when she'd overheard a few men in the aisle in front of her commenting on the race in Florida the day before. She'd wanted to go, but hadn't been able to get tickets back from Arizona in time.

"There's been no official word." An older gentleman shook his head. "Last they said was he'd been taken to the nearest hospital, but there's been no statement of anything else from Piston."

Her brows had lowered in bemusement, not _once_ had she ever seen an accident severe enough to warrant anyone leaving the track. She'd witnessed some pretty frightening mishaps but drivers had always been able to walk away, maybe with an arm over someone's shoulder, sure, but never taken to a hospital.

"He'll be lucky to survive from the sounds of it."

A third person cut in to the conversation. "He was always too reckless of a driver, this was going to happen sooner or later."

She'd immediately thought of Alex and blinked a few times, staring at the back of the man's head as they stood in the aisle. She rested a hand against the seat beside her, feeling disoriented and taking a moment to get her bearings. As the passengers filed off the plane she hurried to catch up to the two men who'd started the conversation.

"He's the best out there." The first man defended with a surprising edge in his tone. "There was nothing reckless about him."

"Sir- excuse me-"

She stopped when both turned around to face her, hand poised awkwardly as she'd been ready to reach out to tap the man's shoulder. She dropped it quickly and held the carry on in both hands in front of her.

"You're speaking of Piston Cup? The racing circuit?"

"We were, hadn't you heard?"

She shook her head. "No sir- I mean I did, I heard your conversing, but who-? Who's been injured?"

The man's expression saddened, like he was sharing the end of an era and did not want to be the bearer of bad news. "Hudson was taken from the track in an ambulance, word last was he might not survive."

Emily only blinked once as her mind went blank and she paled considerably. Staring at the gentlemen in front of her, she was left speechless over what she'd just been told.

That _couldn't_ be right. Hudson had _never_ been caught up in anything dangerous. Well that wasn't true, he had in the past, but he'd always turned it around in his favor. There wasn't anything he couldn't do with that Hornet.

He was _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ for a reason...

"Miss? Are you alright?"

"Yes. I-" She shook her head quickly. "No. No, I'm not. I need to go. Excuse me." She squeezed between the two and glanced over her shoulder in the crowd when she heard the elder gentleman speak again, but she wasn't going to go back to ask what he'd said.

The two passengers looked between themselves in silence before turning back to watch her leave, both standing in the middle of the terminal. The first man stumbled forward when he was run in to from behind and they looked to each other in surprise when they saw her finally reach the man waiting for her near the luggage claim.

"Daddy what's happened-" She asked in a shaky tone.

Edward Piston only put an arm around her shoulders as they exited the building. Taking her luggage, he placed it in the trunk before sitting beside her in the backseat.

Alex was on her other side, and for once didn't hit her with questions about her trip or how their mother's side of the family was doing. Emily watched his profile expectantly for a moment before looking back toward their father.

"What happened?"

They kept their replies vague and she only grew more fretful when it was left at _serious enough that we're waiting on word from the hospital_. Apparently she was permitted to be involved with the sport but the finer details of such incidences were above her pay grade. She was offended until she considered the fact that she may not want to know.

As soon as the cab had let them out at the main offices she followed her father and only glanced back briefly over her shoulder toward Alex when Edward instructed him to take care of the bill and her luggage. She nearly had to jog to keep up with his purposeful stride and was immediately hit by the near silence of the building when they entered the main lobby. On any given day it would be quiet by this time of evening, but it would also be empty, with only a few lone administrators and the cleaning staff occupying the building. Now, though, Emily caught herself meeting eyes with nearly everyone she knew as they made their way to Edward's office.

He left his door open, pausing behind his desk to pinch the bridge of his nose before searching for his reading glasses, it was going to be a long night.

Alex finally joined them, and Emily looked between the two, trying to piece together what she could through the course of their conversation.

"Has that film been developed."

Alex hesitated. "Well, it's only been a few hours-"

"And they said it would be finished." Piston gestured out the door. "Go find out."

Emily was expecting Alex to protest, claiming it was her job to see to such matters, but he only turned away from the desk and disappeared out the door.

"What is the film-" Emily started hesitantly.

"There are questions already as to what caused this."

She didn't know exactly what _this_ was, and the fact that no one was answering her only made it worse.

There was a knock on the door frame and they both turned to see Moore leaning in to the room. He muttered a _thanks_ when Piston gestured his approval and stood in front of the desk beside Emily. Looking him over discretely, she noticed his white dress shirt was crumpled and dirty, his sleeves were rolled up and he was missing his hat.

"Hell of a drive. Take a seat..."

Joe only nodded at Piston's offer and promptly collapsed in to the nearest chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

"What do you know?"

Joe leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, picking at sand that was still lodged under his nails. "Touch and go from the sounds of it. Spoke with Henry-...Hudson's crew chief." He amended, unsure if they knew his first name. "He's unconscious-"

Emily looked up to gauge her father's reaction, and when he didn't bat an eye she realized it must have been expected. _What had happened?_

"-I guess they operated..." Joe shrugged a shoulder, that still hadn't given them much. "The car's history."

Piston sat behind the desk with his arms crossed, his brows lowered briefly as he turned the chair in Joe's direction. "You got a look at the car?"

"Yeah...I helped Henry get it loaded..."

"He left the hospital just to get the car?" That didn't seem right.

Joe raised a brow and shook his head. "That was only because he'd been told to."

Edward paused, staring at him in disbelief before leaning forward to look through his Rolodex. "I imagine that was on Florida's suggestion."

"Yes, sir."

When he didn't find the information he was looking for immediately, he glanced up toward Emily. "Do you have-"

"Mr. Sinclaire's number. I do." She was leaving his office before he had a chance to point her out the door.

She nearly collided with Alex in the doorway, and she noticed suddenly how pale he was, and jumpy. She felt a knot form in her throat even as she muttered a quick apology.

He looked exhausted, they all did, they must not have slept at all since yesterday.

"Emily do you think you could make coff-"

"She's busy, Alexander. You're more than capable."

He'd only stared past her shoulder in to the room for a moment before nodding once and turning to leave again.

Emily took advantage of the empty hallway, catching up to him as she debated over grabbing him by the arm or not. "What's happened, Alexander?"

"He wrecked, that's all."

"Then why is everyone so jumpy? They said he could _die_."

"That happens in car accidents-"

"You were there, _what happened?_ "

Alex finally stopped in the middle of the hall to face her, forcing her to stop short and turn toward him.

"Look, Emily, it was just an accident. I'm sure everyone is just overreacting. They stopped the race and put up temporary road blocks so medical crews had space to work and then they took him from the track. That's all I know."

"Did they continue the race?"

"No."

They started walking again and she watched his back when she turned toward her own office door. "What place would you have finished?"

"Sixth..."

Her eyes narrowed briefly as he turned the corner and disappeared. He'd obviously been close enough to see, he knew exactly what had happened and he wasn't telling her. She'd retrieved the contact information she needed and was on her way back to her father's office when she hesitated in the hallway. His door had been closed, though she could hear him easily, and she stared at the decorative trim while turning the small card in her hand. She stood out of the way, expecting the door to come banging open at any moment and she wasn't about to get hit.

"No you listen to me. You're telling me that boy could die because there was _miscommunication_?"

The man hesitated and stuttered briefly, his voice just loud enough that she could tell he had answered but she couldn't tell who it was or what he had said.

"Get on the phone and find out who didn't do their job!"

When the door did open, she glanced up and made eye contact with one of the admins from Florida. It wasn't Sinclaire, she doubted he would make the effort to travel to the main offices anyway. After waiting what she deemed to be a decent amount of time, she entered the office and closed the door behind her. Joe was still present, with his arms crossed in the chair in front of Edward's desk and both men looked up at her expectantly as she held the card out to her father.

He was still fuming and took the card from her to toss beside the phone before filling her in. He gestured toward the door in reference to the man that had just left the room.

"They don't know that the track had been groomed-! They don't think-!" He cut himself off and shook his head.

Joe looked up toward Emily, his expression grim though not as outwardly angered as her father. "They were so focused on getting the stands and press areas staged after the storms, no one is sure that any of the maintenance crew took one of the tractors out with the rakes to clear the beach."

"So there was debris..." She asked hesitantly.

Joe nodded slowly. "I couldn't see who it was from where I was in the press box, but I did see Hudson with an administrator halfway through the race. They'd had to replace a tire."

"Several cars replaced tires from what I hear." Edward commented.

Joe glanced once at him before looking back toward Emily. "It wasn't a friendly conversation, let's put it that way."

"You think you can find out who it was?" Edward picked up the card Emily had brought, looking it over before giving Joe his attention again.

He stood from the chair with a nod. "I can start looking."

Edward nodded in thanks and set the card down beside the phone before picking up the receiver. He returned it to the cradle, though, when Alex stepped through with a cup of coffee in one hand and a film canister in the other.

"I just spoke to Sinclaire and-"

Edward cut him off. "Sinclaire is here?"

Alex hesitated with a look of confusion before nodding.

Emily only observed quietly, watching as he set the film reel on the desk. She eyed it briefly before looking up at her father.

Edward slid the card back in her direction, buttoning his jacket quickly as he rounded the desk. He turned Alex's shoulder in a silent request for him to follow and before Emily knew what was happening, she was standing alone in her father's office.

The sudden quiet after such a hectic few moments was oppressive and she shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, feeling like the walls were closing in and that the expansive office had begun shrinking. She picked up the card she'd originally retrieved for her father and read the contact information while listening to the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall behind her. Biting her lip, she glanced up toward the door once before stepping forward and taking the film canister. It was much lighter than most race films, and she frowned at the thought that they would have cut their filming short if the race had gone unfinished.

She looked up and down the hall before leaving the office and closed the door behind her before heading straight for one of the few projection rooms in the building.

* * *

Smokey hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before, and he assumed it was mostly due to the fact that he hadn't been permitted to stay when visiting hours had ended. A few hours in an uncomfortable chair would have been better than a hotel bed.

He'd tried to convince himself that they must have been optimistic if they weren't allowing him to stay. Jesse must have been stable enough that they knew nothing would happen overnight. The others had agreed, but he knew it was only to make him feel better with the current situation. Why would they have Jesse under constant supervision and be tracking his vitals so diligently if they weren't afraid of him suddenly taking a turn in the wrong direction. Only family members were allowed back for the time being and he was already tired of nurses asking if there was anyone that could come to offer moral support. He could only state that he was Jesse's only family so many times.

Because he hadn't slept, and had really only checked the clock every few hours while resting his eyes overnight, he was up, showered and back in the emergency wing the moment visiting hours started. He'd met with Dr. Thompson again, and had been given a more thorough explanation of his brother's injuries before getting a chance to see him that morning.

He'd sat in a slightly larger area than the consultation room, picking at a cut on the heel of his hand he must have gotten loading the Hornet the day before while Thompson informed him that he could see the x-rays if he wished, to see what was actually happening. He'd turned the offer down, he could see what was happening just fine.

Jesse looked worse in the morning sunlight that filtered through the open curtains. It had been explained to Smokey that things could and most likely would get worse before they were better, bruising would deepen before eventually fading, the stress to his brother's system would push to the physical brink of exhaustion before he regained any strength. That was if he ever woke anyway...

"Why does everything have to be a competition with you..." His voice was quiet, the door to Jesse's room open so nurses and the doctor could be in and out during their continual monitoring. Smokey got the distinct feeling that Jesse was the most severe case they currently had within their doors. "At least I could speak to Ruth...right up till the end..."

He sat with his elbows braced on his knees, looking Jesse over more closely now that the initial shock of the situation had dulled somewhat. He'd told the others what he could the night before, but after speaking with Thompson, he doubted he'd be sharing much more. The others didn't need to know how uncomfortable it was just to see the mottled and darkening bruises to the side of Jesse's head when the bandages had been removed to allow the wound to breathe. They didn't need to know how many ribs were broken or that _flail chest_ meant that one of Jesse's ribs on the left side was broken in two places and therefor dangerous enough that the doctor was _glad_ Jesse couldn't move. It had been explained that the broken rib could cause more internal damage if not treated seriously, causing further injury to the lungs or even the heart if the break was close enough.

Henry wasn't an expert on anatomy, but he knew which side the heart was on.

"Where are you in all that mess..."

Could Jesse hear him? Was it like sleeping? Was he dreaming, or had his body broken all contact with his consciousness, secluding everything that made Jesse _Jesse_ away in a quiet, _safe_ , corner of his mind while repairing the mechanics that were so desperately in need of attention and healing.

Henry leaned forward and rested an arm against the bed near Jesse's side and propped his head against his hand, looking over Jesse's face carefully for any sign of recognition to his voice.

"The others want me to tell you that you would've had the race, but I'm sure you know that...I didn't get a good look at the tire on the car but it wasn't flat...so I don't know what happened..."

He paused, watching for a bit of reaction, any movement, _anything_ , and sighed lowly when there was nothing.

At least Jesse _looked_ like he was only sleeping. Granted, Jesse rarely ever slept on his back but despite the obvious trauma, he didn't look to be in any pain.

Small mercies.

He rubbed a hand over his face, needing coffee and he knew he should probably force himself in to eating something. He stood slowly and walked around the foot of Jesse's bed to open the window. For the end of August, the morning had been a little chilly.

"Maybe some cold air will wake you up, just so you can complain to have the window shut again..."

He watched again for anything, standing beside the window and drummed his fingers against the sill with a sigh when that attempt failed as well.

He'd even settle for a smirk, but it wasn't like he'd be able to see one anyway. The heavy mask of the ventilator, as they'd called it, made it impossible to see any kind of facial expression. If it meant that Jesse spent less time in a tank respirator, though, he'd take it.

He commented in the silence of the room that he'd be back as soon as he got something to eat, and maybe made a few calls. He paused in the hall and watched the nurse once she'd passed him, unsure how she could work with a smile plastered on her face as she closed the door behind her. He then stared at the _Hudson, J_ on the door for a moment.

He'd been standing on the stairs on his way to his room when his mother had answered the door to be told his father had been killed in action. He'd been keeping the twins calm in the living room before opening the door for Doc Barnhart the morning before his mother died. He'd been at Ruth's side, willing Jesse to walk back through the doorway because he couldn't leave her, and now he stared at the door that had been closed behind him as he'd left Jesse's room.

Smokey turned away quickly, before he could spend too much time thinking of the implications. Swallowing thickly, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he wandered down the hall and toward the main areas. There had to be a sign somewhere for a cafeteria, but he didn't want to waste time, and was half tempted to ask the group of medical professionals he could see sitting around a table in a room to his right, the door partially open as he continued up the hall.

Whoever was speaking must have realized the door was open and pushed it closed as they continued in their explanations of some x-rays on the wall across from them. Those seated at the table looked to be about Jesse's age. Just before the door had closed, he'd realized they were on the student end of a lecture and he caught a brief part of the man's comments.

"-patient's condition is critical and as you can see from the x-rays, the thoracic trauma from the accident-"

The door had closed with a soft click and Smokey passed with clenched fists. They were talking about Jesse, those were his brother's x-rays. Jesse wasn't a case study, or some quick blurb in a text book. He wasn't a science experiment to be shown to the class. He was Jesse Aaron Hudson, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, three time Piston Cup champion, his kid brother, a twin and the youngest child of Henry and Sarah Hudson. He was a moonshine runner, known for pushing the boundaries and definitely pushing his limits.

Jesse lived like he had the world at his fingertips and to question him was a mistake.

Smokey was no longer hungry, and turned to start back for Jesse's room. He passed the nurse who had been in to check on his brother and the corner of his mouth turned up when she greeted him.

"Can we bring you anything, Mr. Hudson? It can be a trek to the cafeterias."

His initial thought was to turn her down but he thought better of it. With a low sigh he nodded and thanked her. There was no reason why he couldn't just eat it later.

She was off and down the hall as he stepped back in to Jesse's room. He glanced up at the feel of the breeze, much warmer than just before he'd left, and he huffed faintly before pulling his chair to the edge of Jesse's bed. He yawned, and muttered something about the hospital staff thinking it must be alright to have the windows open after all. He ran a hand through his hair and stared across the room at the sunlight through the window.

* * *

"-after such a devastating crash, we can only hope that this race today wasn't his last..."

The film wavered on the screen before going abruptly dark, whoever had been filming must have thrown the cap over their camera lens quickly in whatever chaos must have ensued. Emily stood with a hand over her mouth, looking between the now dark screen and the projector beside her. She turned toward the machine and pushed the toggle up with her thumb to rewind the film, staring dully as it was returned to the original reel. She removed it from the projector and pressed the canister closed as she left the room. Glancing in to her father's office, she made sure it was vacant before returning the film to his desk and continuing down the hall to her own office.

The day's paper had been left and why it ended up on her desk she didn't know, but glaring up at her was an image of the Hudson Hornet at just a slightly different angle than what she'd just seen in the film.

 _CRASH!_

 _Hudson Hornet Out For Season!_

There was some ridiculous rhyming quip beneath, but all she could see was the busted out windshield and what had to be a snapped axle as the front driver side tire was resting at an impossible angle. She sighed shakily, reading through the account before looking at a smaller image of Jesse Hudson looking toward the camera. It looked like it could have been earlier that season, or possibly sometime last season. That easygoing, almost lazy smile plastered on his face that she knew was more to play up that image the press had given him in the first place.

She set the paper aside, steepling her hands together in front of her face before reaching out again and flipping the paper over so the images were face down.

The tears that wanted to fall since she'd put the film away hadn't subsided, and she felt the threatening sting before her vision blurred and she covered her face with her hands.


	41. Where Are You

**AN: Once upon a time this fic was going to end on chapter 51 but there is too much story left to fit in to ten chapters.**

* * *

 _On August 29th, Jesse Hudson, more commonly known to fans of the Piston Cup series as The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was rushed from the track on Fireball Beach by emergency crews to the nearest hospital following a catastrophic turn of events at the mid season race. Weeks later, little is known on the racer's condition other than-"_

Smokey folded the paper in half and tossed it on the side table with a sigh before rubbing his eyes with a hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. Not much was known publicly concerning Jesse's condition because they still weren't sure themselves. Over two weeks had passed and the only sign of improvement was that Jesse's external and more superficial injuries seemed to be healing, slowly, but they were healing...

The race scheduled for the week immediately following the accident had been canceled. Officials with Piston Cup assuming the drivers and teams would still be on edge. They had decided to err on the side of caution rather than have a possible repeat of events. Two weeks after Jesse's accident and drivers were still given the opportunity to withdraw even the day of the race with no penalties should they feel uncomfortable getting in to their vehicle.

He'd made the trip back to the house once, just to check on things, leave what was left of the Hornet and trailer in the barn and make sure the house was still standing because who even knew anymore...

The others had met up with him that afternoon, to see what could be done and what they could find out.

"It's like we're playing a game of chicken." He tried to joke. "Maybe if I spend some time away he'll give in and open his eyes."

It had gotten some murmurs of amusement from the others but they'd fallen silent quickly after, standing awkwardly at the bottom of the porch steps while he repacked Jesse's old duffel with his own clothes to take back with him.

"So there's been nothing?" River finally spoke up.

"Nothing..." He replied quietly as he continued to work.

Lou shifted and stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing the contents on the table as Smokey paused just long enough to count the stack of shirts before shoving them in to the bag. They'd been able to get the basics from him right after the accident but when asked for any specifics he'd only shake his head or reply that he didn't really know. It was obvious he was planning for an extended stay out of town and while they would have preferred a straight answer, it was obvious Jesse wouldn't be coming home any time soon.

Smokey finally looked up as he zippered up the travel bag. "You all race this past weekend?"

River was the only one who had, but halfway through the race he'd parked his car in his space and called it quits. "I probably lost my chance with that move, but I couldn't really focus."

Junior had shrugged a shoulder. "They're being pretty lenient right now, though, you don't know for sure."

They'd said their goodbyes, telling Smokey to let Jesse know he needed to get his act together and back on the track before too long as he'd thrown his things back in the truck. Smokey had only grinned faintly before asking them if they could maybe keep an eye on the place and let him know if anything seemed amiss. They'd promised to take turns, and knew that if none of them could, someone in town surely would be able to.

He'd stopped at the diner on his way out of town while Joan was on her shift, to let her know he was leaving and that he'd call when he'd checked back in to the hotel. He felt a little guilty, knowing she was probably more aware of the current situation than any of the others. He couldn't carry it all on his own, he knew that much, and there had been at least a conversation in the waiting room of the hospital when she'd been able to visit and more than a few phone conversations when he'd been asked to leave because visiting hours were over.

She'd told him not to worry about having anyone look after the house, or his garage for that matter. "I'll stop by every other day or so and let you know..."

"The others just offered-"

"I'll let them know, or we'll figure something out between the four of us."

He'd only nodded with a tired sigh before agreeing that, yes he would drive carefully, he'd let her know when he got there and he would give her an update on his brother. If there was anything to update on...

Once he'd gotten back on the road, he mused in silence over the fact that his brother and Joan hadn't exactly had a great rapport in the past, but since Ruth's funeral had actually made an effort and found they weren't _totally_ incapable of getting along.

Funny how tragedy pulled people together.

* * *

Emily sat at her desk, staring vacantly over the paperwork in front of her. The race following Fireball Beach had been rescheduled and she'd been able to compile a list of racers to withdraw from the race following, making it much easier than to process each individual driver. She didn't want to start anything new, and she didn't want to sit around at home so she busied herself with clearing out her desk and getting rid of anything she didn't need. There was no reason to keep scraps with old phone numbers on them once she had them sorted in the Rolodex, there was no reason to keep two extra withdraw forms from a race in 1951...

She came across an article buried in the back of a drawer and read over it in silence. The 1952 season was a turning point for Piston Cup and the sport had exploded the following year, the article focused on the banquet that had taken place that fall, highlighting the growth in interest of the sport and how it seemed to have finally come in to its own.

They had Hudson to thank for that.

Her family had always just had money it seemed, but there was only so much that could be done with money. Her father had been pouring funds in to the sport for years but it was only in '52 that it had really gained its footing and taken hold as a national sport the way it had.

The golden boy from Georgia had built an empire that in turn could very well kill him.

She looked over the photos highlighting the season, Hudson of course being one of the main figures in most of the images, one of the nicer ones being of him and who she'd later learned was his sister at the 1952 Fundraiser Benefit and Banquet.

Newspapers needed to really work on printing their images better. She may not have ever met him in person but she knew his hair was darker than her brother's...

Emily sniffed faintly before putting the paper back in the drawer, glancing up from the mess around her when the door opened.

"Who taught you your manners?" She huffed, straightening the papers to throw away.

"I'm fairly sure our mother..." Alex replied while approaching her desk.

"Well I suppose that explains it."

He only raised a brow, watching in silence as she threw the papers away and continued to clear the top of her desk. "Any word?"

"I would think word spread faster among the drivers..."

"Well it's not like we've heard anything."

"Well then no one has." She huffed.

"What's your problem?" Alex slumped in to the chair in front of the desk and Emily glared at him for a moment before going back to work.

"I don't know Alexander, what's everyone's problem? What did you just come in here asking about?"

"It's just an accident."

"You'd be singing a different tune if it were you."

"Maybe...but it's not, because I didn't wreck."

She tilted her head, staring down at the folder Joe had given her weeks ago concerning the fiasco of ticket costs before setting her jaw and looking back up at him. "Get out."

"What? Why?"

"Because I told you to."

He stared at her a moment with a look of disbelief before putting his hands up. "Yeah, fine, whatever. Don't know why you're so touchy lately."

She only glared at him as he turned to leave, finally letting her expression fall when he'd closed the door behind him. She grabbed the latest newspaper from the corner of the desk and read through the main articles.

* * *

"C'mon, Hollywood. You gotta give me _something_."

Henry had taken the liberty of moving the chair closer to the edge of the bed every time he was there. He'd gotten used to where the doctor and nurses usually worked and had found a spot that kept him close to Jesse yet out of their way. Sometimes they spoke to him when they made their rounds, whether it was about the weather that day, or if he'd actually been able to sleep the night before, other times it was to give him brief updates on Jesse's progress.

They'd taken him for new x-rays. It might have only been two weeks but Dr. Thompson had told him he wanted to be sure there was no shifting or movement in the rib cage.

Jesse never moved, how much shifting could there be...

"Everyone's asking about you..." He muttered after a moment. Exhausted, and no longer worried about formalities among the staff taking care of his brother, he leaned against the side of the bed and rested his head on his arm. "And I don't know what to tell them..."

They kept telling him that Jesse was healing, and while it would still be a long road they were optimisitc. They never had an answer as to why Jesse hadn't woken yet.

All the healing in the world made no difference if he never opened his eyes again.

"You gotta give me something..." He repeated quietly, running a hand through his hair. "You know how hard it was watching Ruth, but at least there was _us._ Now it's just _me_ and that's not fair, Jesse."

His gaze drifted over his brother's form, from the hair that the nurse's continually tried to brush to one side, which he knew wouldn't cooperate until Jesse could take care of it himself, to the band still wrapped around his chest and the cast forcing his arm to remain bent at the elbow.

They had started to remove the ventilator for a few hours every day. Something about forcing the muscles of the chest to exercise on their own and regain their previous strength.

Henry had thought more than once that maybe Dr. Thompson should have compared notes with Dr. Horner back home, maybe something could have been figured out for Ruth...

He'd nodded off, leaning against Jesse's bed and woke with a start, panicking momentarily at the fact that the lights in Jesse's room were lit, casting the room in a soft orange light while the window across from him was dark.

He stretched and ran a hand over his face roughly before looking over Jesse's figure and then to either side to get his bearings. He jumped in surprise when a nurse was at his side.

"There's someone here to see you."

His brows lowered in confusion but he nodded, eyes still adjusting to the light as he stood. He straightened his shirt, trying to think of what might have happened to cause any of the others to make the trip without calling ahead first.

It wasn't any of the others, and while he'd been hoping it might have been Joan that had made the drive after her work shift, he stopped just within the doors of the waiting room in surprise.

Joe wasn't much of a surprise to see, but Edward Piston certainly was.

He shook the man's hand in a bit of a daze, nodding when they greeted him.

Joe took over as mediator, having a feeling that Henry wouldn't be interested in long conversations. "We tracked down where you're staying, but they informed us you weren't there."

"Yeah, well..." He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the wing Jesse's room was in. "I'm a little surprised I'm still here..."

It might have been the expected etiquette to remove hats indoors, but something about the way Piston held his in front of himself seemed more respectful than the everyday, curious, onlooker. Henry couldn't count the amount of times Jesse had retold stories of the few times he'd spoken to Piston face to face but he suddenly understood Jesse's confession of feeling as if he looked like an underclass ruffian when compared to the man. His casual attire was probably still more than their outfits for the banquets they'd attended...

"I wanted to let you know that if there's anything you need you just let us know, son. I didn't want to only leave a message where you're staying-"

Henry only nodded again. "Thank you, sir."

Joe stood with his arms crossed. "How is he?"

He hesitated, uninterested in broadcasting their personal family happenings. He was struck then at how pitiful that sounded. A family crisis that consisted of two people...

"It doesn't leave this room." Edward assured quietly.

Henry glanced over their shoulders quickly, realizing the waiting room was empty and hit with the fact that he was actually there much later than they generally allowed him to stay. A cold chill rushed through him at the thought and he blinked a few times to focus on the men in front of him again before giving them an abridged version of what he actually knew, only saying as much as what he'd told Lou, River and Junior.

Their expressions were serious and he could tell they weren't going to go running to the closest paper to print up what they'd just been told. Piston reached in to his pocket and handed him a card.

"This is my personal home phone. You call whenever there's any change."

It was a command, not a question.

"Yes, sir."

He shook their hands, appreciating Joe's hardy slap to the shoulder and set his jaw at the memory of seeing him at Ruth's funeral the year before. He wasn't interested in having a repeat this fall.

As soon as they parted ways he nearly sprinted back to his brother's room. His hand rested on the door frame as he looked in to see a nurse he didn't recognize taking Jesse's pulse.

She looked up with a generally pleasant smile but without the usual recognition he received from the nurses he had grown accustomed to seeing during the day.

Henry glanced up at the clock over the bed. Ten o'clock at night was far past the time they generally told him to leave. He was a little breathless when he spoke.

"Is everything alright?"

The woman looked down at the clipboard she'd taken from the end of the bed and spoke in a neutral tone. "His pulse has weakened in the last few hours, but nothing to cause real concern."

He wanted an explanation, but had the distinct feeling she wasn't going to give him a reason. Maybe she didn't even know the reason...

She left the room only to return shortly after with the night shift physician. Henry stood near the chair he usually used and watched as they unfolded a blanket the nurse had pulled from the shelf to add to the thin bed sheets of his brother's bed. Irritated by the fact that they didn't feel the need to explain anything to him, he stepped forward and tugged the corner of the blanket in to place.

"What's wrong, and why am I still here?"

The doctor, much younger than Dr. Thompson, spoke while reading the additions the nurse had made to the chart on the clipboard. "They didn't want to wake you, but it might be good that you are still here. His temperature and pulse has dropped, could you stay for the night?"

"W-...I'm not going to leave. What's happening..."

"Nothing other than the change in his vitals, but we'll be keeping a closer watch until morning. It could just be effects of the head injury. Most likely temporary symptoms."

Henry studied Jesse's face as the man spoke. Most likely...? What the hell was going on in there...

"Because you are here..." The younger doctor started. "Go ahead and sit with him on the bed, it could help bring his body temperature back up. While it's not dangerous it is strange that it has dropped. Maybe talk to him more. Not much is known when it comes to injuries like this but it's possible he's trying to make his way back."

Make his way back...where the hell was he. California? Mars?

He knew it was to sound encouraging, but what if it wasn't _making his way back_ , what if it was drifting further away...

He only nodded as the doctor commented that a nurse would be in every half hour and said goodnight. He returned his chair to its usual place as a nurse turned off the lights, the room falling dark suddenly and the only light coming from the hall through the open door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was afraid of doing anything that could move the IV lines or cause Jesse any undo pain or stress before realizing that Jesse couldn't feel any pain. He very carefully situated himself beside him and leaned back so he was against the over stuffed pillows. He swallowed heavily, Jesse's good arm against his shoulder as he was reminded of Ruth's hospital stay.

He reached up, carefully brushing Jesse's hair flat at the memory of his realization of being a twenty-seven year old father to twenty-two year old kids. Except now it was a single kid, knocking at death's door with no sign of turning back.

In less than three weeks it would be the one year anniversary of Ruth's passing. Henry glanced down, eyes adjusted to the low light, and studied what he could see of Jesse's face. They'd returned the ventilator as a precaution for the rest of the night. He still looked like he was merely sleeping.

Henry's breath hitched quietly, as helpless as he'd been with Ruth. His voice was weak as he whispered in the silence of the room.

"Say hi to Dipper for me will you, Hollywood?"


	42. Do You Remember?

He was used to this particular song and dance and he felt the tentative grasp he'd had on any kind of optimism slipping steadily through his fingers. It reminded him of sand.

Jesse never cared for sand, at least when it came to driving, and Henry could only agree as they crept up to three weeks with no sign of the kid waking. What had changed was that he was permitted to stay. He only ever left long enough to get a change of clothes and maybe get a nap on the hotel bed. The chair beside Jesse's bed was not meant for extended use, and if it was, he was going to need to file a formal complaint.

Dr. Thompson hadn't been able to give him the explanation he'd expected concerning the fluctuation of Jesse's heart rate and temperature. What he'd heard them calling e _rratic behavior_ had continued at random for a few days before returning to normal, as if it had never happened. The fact that no one seemed to know what was going on only fueled Henry's listless outlook further.

"You know for as many times as I've complained about your ceaseless whining over the years, it would be nice to hear something from you..." He spoke without looking up from the local paper in his hands. Something about current politics and individuals caught stealing money from local treasury. He didn't know their names, he didn't recognize what county they were in and he certainly didn't care. He probably would if he didn't have more pressing matters at hand...

He glanced up over the edge of the paper, as if maybe that comment would finally get a reaction. Tossing the paper aside, he ignored that it had fallen between the chair and end table in a crumpled mess as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

His eyes were sore, from lack of sleep, strain in the lighting of the building and of seeing the same four walls day in and day out. He leaned forward, braced an elbow on his knee and looked at the array of strange equipment that surrounded his brother. He rubbed a knuckle against his chin in frustration.

"You don't get to do this. Jesse, of _all_ people you should know _not to do this to me_."

He knew no one would be entering the room for a while and threaded his fingers together, cracking his knuckles in agitation before he continued. "If you weren't already lying in a hospital bed, you would be by the time I was-" That was a lie, he could never hurt Jesse...

The twins had been seventeen when their mother died, and the only reason they hadn't become wardens of the state was because Henry had done everything in his power to prove that between himself and his two younger siblings the two could survive on their own until reaching the legal age of adulthood. The twins had spent their inheritance on medical bills, he'd never told them he spent his on hearings, a lawyer and whatever demands the state had made to keep the twins together and in the homestead.

They were supposed to be a family of five, and more than once he'd woken with a start to find himself leaning against Jesse's bed instead of sitting around the table on the porch. No matter how hard he tried to remember what had been happening in the dream, he'd lose it. All he ever remembered was that it was the entire family, their parents to his left, Jesse and Ruth on the right.

Except now it was only Jesse.

The silence of the room was taking its toll.

"Wake up."

He sighed lowly, looking down at his hands before raking them through his hair as he stood. He needed to stretch his legs, get some air, but the memory of what had happened when Jesse had done the same thing a little over a year ago caused him to hesitate.

"An hour, Jesse...can you just..." He set his jaw, looking away from the bruises that had faded very little in the few weeks they'd been at the hospital, and turned to leave the room.

* * *

"A collection fund? I think something aside from a monetary hand out would be more appreciated..."

Joan had just been finishing her morning shift when Junior, River and Lou had all lined up along the counter. Luckily, her relief had shown up a little early and took over before she was forced to wait on anyone. She untied the apron string as she spoke, folding it and throwing it on the shelf above the phone behind the counter before turning back toward them.

"We're just repeating what others in town have asked..."

"Umm..." Joan shook her head slowly, shrugging her shoulders as she drummed her nails against the counter. "I don't know...Henry should be calling in an hour or so. I can ask him?"

The Hudsons weren't hurting for money, three years of steady well paying income had seen to that, and just because they'd started making money didn't mean they'd started living above their means. The boys didn't need help there. Food was out of the question. Joan knew they'd had enough of that the year before, and it was only Henry...

She straightened suddenly.

"What?" Lou asked.

"I think I know..." She'd been out to the house the day before and while they'd been taking turns keeping an eye on things, she realized what they could get well wishers involved in that would actually be helpful.

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be going out to Arizona this weekend?"

Emily glanced up and took a steadying breath before replying to her brother. "I am...why?"

"Are you still going?"

" _Yes._ " She raised both brows in irritation, looking up at him from where she sat in their father's office. "Why are you asking?"

Alex leaned against Edward Piston's desk and turned a glass paperweight as he replied. "You've been so caught up in this whole thing I thought you'd sulk in your room all weekend instead."

"Shows how much you know."

"So are you past the grieving stage?"

Emily leaned back in to the cushions of the small sofa, eyeing him with a look of offense. "Do you rehearse these things before you hold conversations with others?"

"I actually don-"

" _Actually-_ " She cut him off. "You would do well to keep your mouth shut, Alexander."

He nearly laughed, the sound catching in the back of his throat awkwardly. He crossed his arms and looked her over in mock appraisal. "Such harsh words from Miss Piston."

"Oh trust me, Alex, if I were a man I'd be saying something else."

Alex looked surprised for a moment, shifting his weight and tilting his head. "You know, you were never like this. I think being involved with racing has been a bad influence. Mother thinks so."

"If it were up to mother, I'd be married off to the highest bidder already."

"She has asked if you're seeing anyone from around here."

Emily blinked, watching him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head. "Excuse me?"

"She asked me-"

"She should be _asking me_." Emily stood up quickly, hands curled in to fists.

Alex would have laughed at how _unthreatening_ she appeared if not for the fact that her outburst did surprise him.

"If she's that concerned, she should speak to me." Emily continued. "But I suppose she's probably too busy fawning over you and planning the wedding with Bea to really care much about what's happening to her daughter."

"Emily-..." He hadn't expected...whatever...this was. "She cares-"

"She didn't know I'm going to Arizona. Daddy had to tell her because apparently she was too busy to listen to the conversation at dinner the other night. She thinks I'm just biding my time here in these offices every day like a waif waiting for someone to tell me what to do. She has _no idea_ how much I take care of here and thinks I should just pick from a list of names that come from _old money_ to settle down with and play housewife to."

Alex was silent, and only gestured helplessly. "What am I supposed to say..."

"Nothing." She took a deep breath before brushing past him. "As mother's golden boy you'll never understand."

He was left standing alone in the office and spoke aloud after a moment. "What the hell just happened..."

Emily locked the door to her office before sitting behind the desk. Sniffing faintly, she glanced up at the clock and blinked back tears as she reached for the phone.

She drew circles on a piece of scrap paper after she'd dialed the number and a strained smile spread when the phone quit ringing.

"Yeah hey- yeah it's me...I-" She hesitated, tilting her head and biting her lip, her voice wavering dangerously when she continued. "Do you have some time? I just really need to talk to someone right now-"

A stressed laugh escaped her. She needed to see if she could move her flight up and get out of state for a while...

"Thanks, Flo."

* * *

Henry opened the window before hesitating and wondering if he should close it again. It had been raining that morning before the sun had come out and the afternoon air was heavy, making his walk uncomfortable. He rolled his shoulders in distaste of the shirt that stuck to him before pulling the window pane shut. He looked out across the horizon at the thunderheads that would bring more storms that evening, and if he'd learned anything, it was heat and humidity weren't a good combination for weak lungs.

He'd gotten the feeling that he was only talking to himself and other patients' family members probably looked upon him with pity, or thought he was absolutely crazy, when seeing him standing in the room labeled _Hudson, J._

What did he have to lose by talking, though?

He slumped in to the chair and abruptly started laughing at a memory from their childhood. He'd gotten so used to speaking aloud to Jesse that he started speaking without thinking.

"Do you remember when we were kids- I think you and Ruth might have been six if you were lucky...Mom and Dad took us to some lake for a week. I don't even remember where they took us, but you twins were dead set on holding a fish. The whole ride there neither of you would shut up about holding a fish."

He shook his head, looking up across the room. "So we went fishing as soon as we got there, sitting on this rickety wooden pier that probably shouldn't have been holding all of us. Tried to explain that it could be hours but after maybe ten minutes you were tired of waiting...then dad finally caught one, reeled it in and held it out for you two. You, of course, thought it was the best thing since sliced bread standing there trying to count scales while dad told you we had to get it back in the water. Ruth finally got her turn to hold it and it had been so still for you, but started flopping around as soon as she took it. She screamed, you screamed, she went running off the pier and back to mom...pretty sure she was crying..."

Henry huffed, looking at Jesse's face briefly before looking away toward the floor again. "I remember anyway..."

His amusement was short lived and his expression fell again. He'd pleaded with Jesse for days to open his eyes, tried to coax him to awareness when it was just the two of them, to no avail.

He was beginning to think those memories were all he was going to get.

With a sigh, he hunkered in to the chair and closed his eyes, listening to thunder in the distance. That storm was moving in faster than he originally thought...

Rain began to patter against the window softly and he opened his eyes again to stare vacantly in the direction of the foot of Jesse's bed.

"...Did I win...?"

Henry blinked a few times before his head whipped in Jesse's direction to see his eyes opened to slits, barely open or very alert but they were _open_ and he'd spoken.

He pulled the chair around to face Jesse and leaned against the bed, a broad smile spreading slowly, only growing at the strained and lopsided grin directed at him. He gripped Jesse's good arm carefully around the wrist, relief and disbelief coursing through him at once.

His voice shook. "Hey- hey, look at you, kid. Where the hell have you been?"

Jesse didn't reply, his gaze sliding away from his face and toward the window. Henry saw the moment he realized he was connected to an assortment of equipment, confusion and apprehension flashing through his eyes.

"Jesse-...hey, Hollywood. Look at me, easy..." He was afraid to reach out and direct his eyes toward him, unsure of quick movements and how that could affect his injuries. "The accident. What do you remember of the accident-"

Jesse's brow furrowed and Henry was glad they'd removed the ventilator that morning, he probably would have panicked with that monstrosity covering his face.

He stood and backed toward the door, not wanting to turn away from him but he needed to let someone know Jesse had finally woken up. He only waved to the nearest nurse before returning to his chair.

Jesse didn't get a chance to answer before the room was flooded with activity and Henry was forced to stand and move the chair out of the way. He immediately regretted not waiting a little longer. He probably wouldn't get a chance to speak to him for hours now...

There seemed to be a lot of people doing a lot of _nothing_ and Henry set his jaw. He just wanted to speak to him, to _hear_ him. Three weeks was a long time to be separated from your only family while they were right there in front of you...

What seemed like hours had only been about twenty minutes and as soon as the room cleared again he slid the chair noisily out of the corner with his foot, grinning at how Jesse eyed the piece of furniture sidelong because he himself was out of the kid's line of vision.

Jesse swallowed heavily, voice hoarse and throat sore from lack of use. Seeing Henry finally sit in the chair his brows lowered again. When he did speak, his voice was a harsh whisper, cracking and gravely.

"How's the car...?"

Henry shook his head, laughing lowly and eyes welling up at the fact that Jesse had _opened his eyes_ and they were speaking, but the first thing he asks is about the car...

But it was Jesse, he shouldn't expect anything else...

"Car's done for, Hollywood...like you nearly were..."

"I don't feel so bad..."

"You are something else...and they have you on some pretty heavy stuff..."

Just because Jesse was awake and speaking didn't mean he was out of his precarious position. His ribs still had a good three to four weeks before he could be more mobile. The injury to his head would need even more attention now that he was conscious. While it was comforting to see that he was awake, it was incredibly unnerving to see Jesse's eyes so bloodshot. His right eye, in particular, had suffered a number of broken vessels and was a startling shade of red even after three weeks.

After nearly a month of waiting to hear him speak, somehow the quiet that fell over them was different, comfortable. Henry watched his chest rise and fall with some effort and watched for any sign of distress.

Jesse turned his head slowly, taking in their surroundings before murmuring quietly. "What happened, Henry..."

He could tell Jesse was exhausted, apparently not being conscious was different than sleeping.

"The Hornet flipped...more than once." He threaded his fingers together, staring down at them. "Do you remember any of the race?"

Jesse only closed his eyes, and Henry took that as an equivelant of shaking his head no.

"You were in a pretty nasty mood halfway through the race. A tire had blown and you went off on an administrator about there being debris on the track. You worked your way through the pack-" He paused and grinned at how Jesse had taken the field. "Some really great driving, Jesse, but...something tripped you up."

He was concerned that there was no sign of recognition on Jesse's face, he stared across the room and Henry could tell he was trying to piece it together but unable to. He leaned forward after a moment and rested an arm on the bed. "You alright?"

"It just really hurts..."

Henry's mouth formed a thin line, looking over Jesse's frame before standing. He knew Thompson would be back soon, but maybe he could get him to skip a few patients and visit sooner.

It was a whole new kind of waiting game now, pain medications, allowing Jesse to sleep, and as much as Henry had wanted him to wake up, he knew that he'd still have a lot of down time.

But Jesse was awake. Maybe he'd get a night's sleep for the first time in nearly a month...


	43. Chin Up

"Now. You tell me what's got you all worked up in a tizzy lately."

Emily had bitten at the inside of her lip, to the point of it nearly bleeding, and played with the straw in the soda she hadn't touched as the sun began it's slow descent. She wasn't even impressed with the neon that evening as a whole new side of town came to life. "It's just...there's so much all happening at once. I guess I just didn't expect drama to invade what Daddy's worked so hard to-"

"If it involves money and status, honey, it's asking for drama." Flo crossed one leg over the other and held her hands together over her knee. "And you tell me that you expect dozens of hot headed boys whose lives revolve around hot rods to keep a cool head over anything?"

Emily huffed in amusement despite herself. "It's not only boys, there's...well _one_ girl..." She trailed off, still staring at the glass in front of her as she moved the ice about the glass distractedly.

Flo gave her a chance to continue, watching the condensation travel down the glass to pool on the outside table they sat at on the sidewalk. When Emily made no effort to speak, she decided she'd need to take over. "Did you talk to him?"

Emily blinked and let go of the straw, folding her hands together and hiding them under the table. "Who?" She glanced up to see Flo had raised a brow and knew she'd answered wrong.

"Who? _Who_? Who else would I be asking about other than _Mr. Hypothetical_? I'm certainly not interested in hearing if you've spoken to your brother."

"Alex is fine, thanks for asking..."

"You know I didn't mean anything by it." She reached out and coaxed Emily to allow her to take a hand, continuing as she held it between her own. "But you always come in to town and tell me all about this racer you admire so-..." Flo cut herself off, realizing she'd hit a sore spot. "Oh honey, what's happened."

Emily always told her the happenings in Piston Cup, or at least her own involvement. She never really got specific with names because it seemed like it was a world away, two separate lives that never crossed paths despite her mother's family connection to the general area.

Flo was constantly encouraging her to work up the nerve to introduce herself to 'this racer of her's' as she called him. Emily had never told her anything other than what an amazing driver this guy was and never said anything else, but Flo wasn't exactly oblivious either.

Emily's vision blurred and she shook her head when Flo squeezed her fingers encouragingly, asking if she needed to go back east to knock some sense in to some self entitled Piston driver who didn't know a nice girl when he saw one. She laughed a little at the question as tears finally spilled over. "No...no I still haven't-..." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and exhaling harshly before sitting up straight and attempting to compose herself. Her voice was still a little wobbly, though. "There was...this horrific accident a few weeks ago-"

Her current state was enough to cue her friend in to the severity of the situation.

"And now I don't think I'll ever get the chance-" She choked out as her throat tightened threateningly.

"Now you listen to me." Flo started gently, but with a firmness in her tone Emily wasn't used to. "You can't do anything from this side of the country but keep your head up, hear me?"

"I hear you..."

"If your racer is as amazing as you say he is then I'm sure he'll walk away from this situation like it's nothing."

"They say he's been unconscious for weeks-"

Flo inclined her head, raising her chin defiantly. "And so what if it's months?"

Emily only stared at her, taking a shuddering breath as she tried to let her friend's insight sink in.

"Unconscious certainly does not mean dead, and I'm sure if he's half as good as everyone seems to think he is, then he's not gunna take this lyin' down."

Her smile might have been strained, but Emily appreciated the encouragement. It was a far cry from her mother's _i_ _t's horrible, yes, but how well do you really know him dear?_

Flo took the soda with the melted ice and tossed the contents in to the short scrub brush at the edge of the building. "Come on. I think we need something a little stronger than soda."

* * *

Smokey had called home as soon as he'd gotten the chance. His face hurt, feeling like he hadn't grinned so much in years as he heard Joan share the news with whoever was in earshot at the diner.

"When are you coming home?"

"I was going to leave in a little bit actually, but just to get some things and come back." He grew serious finally, pinching the phone between his ear and shoulder. "We're still gunna be here a while."

"They can't-"

"They're afraid of transferring him...too much stress, and he was originally admitted here...they know the history of his injuries..."

"That's a long drive, Henry..."

"I've made it before."

He promised he'd be careful before they said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone before returning to Jesse's room. He was going to try to time his trip with when he'd be sleeping, what point was it to sit in the room wasting time when he could be getting this drive out of the way.

They'd moved the bed so that Jesse was in more of an upright position and had stressed that they wanted him to let them know if he was in any pain and needed the bed reclined again. Henry could tell whenever they'd been through to administer doses of pain medication and would try not to laugh too much at how spacey Jesse would get right before falling asleep.

"Hey." He muttered, entering the room to grab his jacket and keys to the truck.

"Hey." Jesse only watched him, unable to do much else. His voice was still hoarse, but they'd been told it would take time.

Everything was going to take time.

"Dr. Thompson been through yet?"

"N-" Jesse cleared his throat. " Not yet."

"I can tell. Your answers are coherent."

"Don't forget my stuff..."

Henry hooked the key ring around his finger and regarded him in silence a moment. Jesse still looked horrible, and his exhaustion was obvious under the bruising that was still present. He was still unnaturally pale, and the shallow breathing was a little too familiar.

"You gunna be ok?"

Jesse nodded slowly, gesturing with his good hand vaguely. "Just gunna sleep is all..."

"Do those bandages need changed?"

"N-" He hesitated and Henry could tell he was trying to remember when they'd been in last, looking up at the clock across the room with tired eyes. "No...it's only been over an hour..."

"I know you don't like being confined like this, but-"

"Henry I couldn't get up even if I wanted..."

He only nodded in agreement with a sigh. Jesse might be awake but seeing him nearly helpless was only a step up from standing watch while he was unconscious.

He just wanted the kid's spirits to stay high, and that was going to be hard enough the next few days.

The anniversary of Ruth's passing was in two days, meaning Jesse's birthday was in ten.

Jesse got to spend it immobile in a strange hospital with no outside contact but the nurses, doctors and his brother.

Henry didn't find that to be very fair. He'd have to see if an exception could be made. He began to share his idea when he was cut off with the entrance of a nurse. He couldn't help but laugh at the treatment Jesse got, if they were over a certain age, he was treated like a son or grandchild, coddled and fussed over. If they were close to Jesse's age, they fluttered their eyelashes far more than what was necessary and treated him like he was the only one in the hospital.

Jesse wrinkled his nose as the blonde girl left, looking at Henry with lowered brows.

Henry couldn't help but smirk. He was certainly pathetic looking.

"She needs to get her eyes checked."

He choked back a laugh. "She's trying to get your attention."

He did laugh when Jesse gestured in frustration to his face. "I rest my case."

"They're just bruises. Bruises fade, you know."

"I know."

"She likes you."

"She likes The Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

"Kind of the same thing."

"One's a name and status."

Henry shifted his weight to one side and raised his brows. " Was that your afternoon pain medication?"

"Yeah."

"I can tell."

Jesse only looked up at him questioningly, blinking a few times when he didn't respond.

"Since you're about to be decommissioned the next five hours or so, I'm heading back to the house."

He was surprised by how alert Jesse suddenly became, watching him seriously. "Stay the night and just come back tomorrow."

"What?"

"Don't make the whole trip today, just...don't drive that long. Alright?"

Henry hesitated before agreeing that he wouldn't. He had turned toward the door but stopped again and backtracked. "You're sure?"

Jesse only nodded.

"It'll be afternoon tomorrow then..."

"I know."

"Will you be-"

"I'll be fine. I'm just gunna sleep anyway..."

Henry watched him a moment in silence, seeing through the fog that usually fell over Jesse as the medication took effect. It wasn't a bluff and he really didn't want him driving round trip in a day.

"Alright." He finally relented. "I'm giving them the house number anyway."

That seemed to suit Jesse fine, and before Henry knew it he was nearly out.

* * *

Pulling in to the drive, he threw the truck in park with a sour look. The last thing he wanted after several hours of driving was to deal with whoever was at the house. Three cars he didn't recognize sat parked and he pulled up behind them in a way that made it impossible for any of them to leave.

He wanted answers.

Now.

Before he made it to the house, though, he was cut off by Joan who came running across the yard from the garden. In a sunhat, dress and gloves, she held the top of her hat down to keep it from flying back as she stopped in front of him.

"What is going on?" He looked past her shoulder to see a few he recognized from town tending the garden. In a bit of a daze, he allowed Joan to hug him around the neck, returning the gesture with an arm around her back before she stepped back and studied their handiwork.

"Everyone from town wanted to do something, but a collection wasn't necessary and I knew you would turn away meals. So we're all taking care of things while you're away."

The yard looked immaculate and he was sure it had taken a few days to get the grass under control. Some plants in the garden looked like they were beyond saving but the majority were coming back with the help Joan had been able to round up.

He grinned, pulling her closer and kissing the side of her head as they walked toward the house. "Thank you."

They'd gotten a hold of the others and were able to send the helpers home with a quick update on Jesse before going to their usual places at the table.

"So he's alert?" River asked.

"Alert is a broad term." He huffed with a faint grin. "One moment we're having a conversation and the next I feel like he's in another world."

"That's just the norm for him, isn't it..."

Henry only shot Junior a look for that.

"So when can we-"

"Still no visitors outside family. I don't think he wants anyone around really anyway."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Just get that feeling from him."

He understood, though, Jesse was at a low point physically, he doubted he wanted to be seen by any of his friends at the moment. When the smallest things wore him out, a couple of whirlwind racers wouldn't exactly be the best company.

"Well at least tell him we asked about him."

"Of course."

He let them know of what progress had been made and when they parted ways and left for the evening, Joan showed him what had been done at the house.

They stood at the edge of the garden while she pointed to different sections that had been worked on recently and as the sun went down, returned to the house.

Joan had made something ahead of time, knowing he'd be coming home and watched as he set about making coffee.

"Checked on your house too, but there isn't nearly as much ground to cover there..."

He turned away from the counter to face her. "We don't deserve any of this."

"Maybe not deserve, but you need it. Everyone wanted to help, and this was the only thing that seemed like it was actually beneficial."

"Well I appreciate it, and I know Jesse will when I tell him."

"How is he...?"

Henry tilted his head and glanced up when the coffee pot stopped before sighing lowly. "It's...going to be a long road. He didn't want me to go back this afternoon." He shook his head at her look of confusion. "Not because he didn't want me there, he didn't want me to drive round trip in a single day."

Her brows lowered as she crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter as she murmured. "He's afraid of driving..."

He'd thought the same, and hearing her voice his thoughts only caused more concern. "I certainly hope not..."


	44. Changes

Joan hesitated in the doorway, able to feel Henry's presence behind her. He'd given her enough space to back out if she wanted, and in a split second decision she'd stepped in to the room. He had somehow convinced the staff to allow someone who wasn't _fully_ blood related back in to the wing where Jesse's room was. What surprised her more, though, was that when Henry had pitched the idea to Jesse over the phone, he hadn't turned it down. Maybe it was just to have another familiar face nearby, or maybe it was because it was easier to allow someone outside of racing to see the condition he was in. Either way, she'd been shocked to hear Henry speaking in to the phone, saying they would be there late afternoon.

They hadn't been surprised when a nurse informed them that Jesse was sleeping, and she hesitated at the end of the bed with a hand poised awkwardly in front of her mouth, looking over injuries that had been explained but she hadn't been able to associate with _Jesse_. She glanced toward Henry as he threw his jacket on the end table and a large paper bag closer to the bed. The fact that he looked totally at ease in the sterile setting made her uncomfortable.

"Did they give you any update?" She spoke in low tones, afraid of waking Jesse as well as feeling like the general setting of the building called for it.

"Just that they've adjusted his medications." Henry replied in a similar fashion, huffing as he crossed to the window and drew the blinds in an attempt to darken the room. "He probably wouldn't have the headaches he's dealing with if they didn't have the sun right in his face."

Joan ran her hand over the foot board of the bed, unsure what to do, or even what to say.

"He was going to sleep right after I called this morning...he should be up any time."

"He sleep a lot?"

"Nothing else he can do." Henry shrugged as he spoke, and Joan could see him going through a mental checklist as he studied his brother's sleeping form. "Can go back to the hotel if-"

"No, staying here is fine. "

"I'm gunna get coffee. You want anything?"

I'll take a coffee."

He nodded and turned to leave, commenting that he'd see about getting another chair brought in as well.

It took far longer than expected to get two cups of coffee. For some reason the small station had been moved, and when he did find it, there was nothing left in the carafe. So he'd tracked someone down who could get water to make more and because he was waiting near the main cafeteria, he figured he might as well get something to take back anyway.

So finally with a small tray, two cups of coffee and a few things he'd grabbed as snacks, Henry was able to make it back to room 11. His brows drew together in bemusement before he stepped through the doorway, and he looked with a mixture of concern and surprise toward Jesse.

He was laughing.

Henry passed the tray to Joan, who was grinning as she set it aside on the table and handed him his coffee back.

Jesse held his good arm against his chest, attempting to stop and regain his composure. "Ow- don't- don't make me laugh-"

"What-?"

Joan looked up at Henry's confused, half formed question, and repeated what she'd been telling Jesse about the articles she'd been reading to keep track of what was going on as far as updates of him, or reaction from Piston Cup. She couldn't remember the exact quoted text, but she'd paraphrased what she could and describing the expression on Alexander Piston's face from a photo had caused Jesse to let out a surprised chuckle, which wasn't something his body was happy with.

He grimaced as he shifted carefully to get comfortable, becoming still when Joan had reached forward and adjusted the hospital bed in a more upright position. At the questioning looks from the boys she explained that years ago she'd helped her mother take care of an ailing relative.

Henry left again briefly and returned with a chair, commenting as he set it down and slid it across the floor with his foot. "Wasn't sure when you'd wake up, could have brought you a coffee."

"I'm not allowed coffee." Jesse muttered as he rifled through the bag they had brought, looking over the book titles as best he could with the use of only one arm.

"Really?"

He hummed faintly before speaking. "Clear fluids and juices until they decide differently."

"Well that's miserable."

"Tell me about it."

There was a brief lull in the conversation before Joan spoke. "How do you feel?"

"Alright." Jesse shrugged a shoulder before glancing up to make eye contact with both of them. "I'm never really awake long enough to get too uncomfortable..."

They gave Joan a more thorough explanation of his injuries, from the trauma to his head to the ankle they insisted on keeping elevated when Jesse was sure it was nearly healed.

"They gave me exercises to do to make sure I regain all mobility."

"Have you been doing them." Henry asked.

"Of course I have. When I'm coherent."

Joan glanced between the two with a faint grin, as long as they squared off like this everything felt at least somewhat normal. She was surprised to see Jesse in such high spirits, but then knowing you've lived through such a horrible experience could have something to do with that. She personally hadn't seen the accident, and she didn't want to. She hadn't seen the Hornet, but Henry's reaction had told her more than enough and now seeing the injuries Jesse had sustained firsthand, she could at least imagine the severity.

They spent the afternoon catching him up on the happenings at home, and when he asked about what was happening in Piston Cup, Henry had replied that he'd been so focused on the current situation that he hadn't been in touch with anyone from the circuit since the evening Joe Moore and Edward Piston had visited.

"They were here?"

Henry only nodded, that had been the night he was sure they were going to lose him.

Joan changed the subject, and somehow they spent the rest of the evening discussing anything but Piston Cup or Jesse's current situation.

The next morning was somber, though. Henry had hoped that Jesse wouldn't know the date, or have the chance to hear what the date was, but right across from the bed was a large chalkboard the nurses used to keep track of when he received medications. Scrawled across the top of the board was the month and day.

Joan had stayed behind, saying she'd be there in the afternoon. Henry set his own coffee down and the cup of orange juice he'd brought from the cafeteria.

Jesse muttered a quiet thanks while still staring at the page of the book he held, having read the same paragraph four times and still unable to really tell what was happening in the story.

"Alright?" Henry was sure that emotionally he wasn't, but if there was something physical the staff could handle...

Jesse still stared at the page. "I just can't believe it's been a year..."

His brows drew together sharply, and he regarded Jesse in silence from where he was slouched in the more comfortable of the two chairs. He rubbed a knuckle against his chin as he watched him.

He hadn't allowed himself to think much of it, but Jesse's wreck had fallen around the same time Ruth had been admitted to Jefferson Memorial. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to fall in to the same routine of keeping vigil, of making trips back and forth to the homestead, mentally and emotionally running on low fuel but continuing to push forward anyway.

Maybe it would have been easier on them if Jesse hadn't woken until after today...

No, because then he'd spend the day alone, waiting to see if Jesse would ever open his eyes again.

"You know what I was telling you right before you woke up?"

Jesse only glanced up at him, setting the book down.

"I was talking about the fishing trip when you were about six-"

There was a brief pause and he could tell Jesse was thinking back and he grinned, despite how bad he felt for the pain it might have caused, when Jesse abruptly began to laugh. He must have had the same image in mind of himself and Ruth studying the fish their father had caught and how, as it had begun to wriggle and flop on the line, Ruth's scream had created an avalanche of errors that had spiraled out of control.

Jesse cursed lowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing the ache in his chest to settle. He huffed and looked up across the room with glassy eyes, and Henry could pick out physical pain, emotional pain, as well as fondness in the way he clenched his jaw.

She would have been beside herself with this accident, Henry knew, and the stress would have put her right where she was a year ago.

It didn't make it hurt any less, though.

"I miss her so much."

"I know, Hollywood." Henry murmured. "I do too..."

* * *

"Have there been any updates."

"No." Joe stood with his hands on his hips. "But they're not allowing press or anyone within ten feet of the main doors either." He paused briefly, looking out the window in to the sunlight of the afternoon as he spoke. "The group from Thomasville should know something. I can give you a call as soon as I speak to anyone."

"I'd appreciate it, thank you."

Piston had canceled his travel plans and had instead been in Florida while members of the team that took care of the track and logistics all pointed fingers at one another, no one taking responsibility for a blunder they couldn't afford. The morning of his return to the main offices, he'd gathered every member of staff who'd worked in preparing Fireball Beach in to the large conference room of the hotel he'd been staying in. He'd been short and to the point in his parting remarks.

"I've been here well over a week and no one can seem to figure out exactly _what_ went wrong. And because no one can come forward with at least an _idea_ of how such an important task could have been overlooked, I want you all to know that responsibility falls on _every_ person in this room."

At the indignant looks of some, he'd continued.

"Myself included." He pointed at different groups as he made his point. "It's the job of maintenance to make sure that the track and all surrounding areas are clean and readily accessible to teams and track personnel, it's the job of the facility supervisor to make sure maintenance has done their job, it's the _track administrator_ , who makes sure that's all in order and it's _my job_ to make sure they've done _they're job._ "

Piston Cup had never seen an accident so severe before, it wouldn't be the last unless something changed. He'd made sure it was understood that there was a standard expected from them now. Piston Cup's roots were in the backwoods, less than legal, history of moonshining but there was a responsibility now that shouldn't be taken lightly. Drivers and teams trusted those in their positions to provide a safe venue for them to compete. It might never be their names printed in the papers but they were just as important as names like Heming, Piston, or Hudson. There wouldn't be a Piston Cup if they all didn't do their part.

"The only reason anyone here has a paycheck is because of the kid we've put in the hospital. Don't let this happen again."

He'd turned to leave the room, mentally preparing for a day in the offices, and paused briefly with an irritated look when Sinclaire spoke.

"When are we to be at the main offices?"

"This afternoon."

There was a long list of dates set aside for meetings between administration, sponsors and officials. Edward wished Emily had come home sooner but knew she'd also needed the time away.

Changes were coming to Piston Cup, Jesse Hudson had once again flipped the sport on its head.


	45. Home Coming

Henry wasn't sure which was worse when he considered everything separately, but because they all affected each other he finally decided to come to terms with that it was just the day from hell. They'd made an attempt in weakening the dosages to Jesse's pain medications, explaining that enough time had passed that they should be out of the woods in that area.

They were wrong.

It had put Jesse in a foul mood, within forty-five minutes of the head nurse being through to administer this new medication he was in so much pain he'd thought he was going to be ill.

Henry's stomach had turned in sympathy, unable to watch him struggle with the most mundane tasks he'd been more than capable of only a few hours before.

Jesse lay flat with his good arm over his eyes in an attempt to block as much light as possible. His breathing was shallow and he didn't dare move. It was a cracked curse that left his throat that forced Henry to his feet.

"-Henry, it hurts-"

Sure, Jesse loved to whine whenever he could but when he fell silent and was actively keeping as still as possible it wasn't just complaining for the sake of complaining.

Henry had found the nurse to explain and she had told him that because Dr. Thompson wasn't present they couldn't do anything, she couldn't go against his orders. They'd have to wait until he returned that afternoon.

He'd wanted to scream when he was forced to explain to Jesse, who still hid his eyes with an arm. The kid's only response was a hitch in his breathing and a muttered _okay_...

He was going to strangle someone before the day was over.

Joan had made it an hour or so later from the hotel, trying to help with remedies aside from the medications that could take the edge off until the doctor returned.

"This isn't right..." She wrapped ice in the washcloth she held before pressing it above Jesse's ear.

"Where the hell's the doctor-" Jesse shifted uncomfortably and held it in place, not wanting to be completely helpless.

Henry stood with his hands on his hips, shoulders tensed and brows furrowed. Joan was right, and he was livid. He began to reply but cut himself short, looking her over.

"I'm going to- what's wrong?"

She only shook her head.

"What is it?"

The concern in his tone even caused Jesse to turn toward her as best he could, which would have been comical had it not been for the tense situation.

Joan hesitated before sighing lowly. "I got a call this morning...Pap fell and they think he's broken his leg-"

Without hesitating, Henry answered as he ran a hand through his hair. "You need to get home."

"No, Henry, I'll stay-"

"You should go home..."

It was Jesse's soft tone that caught them off guard. He watched her, still holding the cold cloth against his head.

Family was most important, and if Joan's grandfather was hurt, she needed to be home.

"Jesse-" She started, unable to come up with an argument. It wasn't fair to ask that of them.

The conversation died when Dr. Thompson entered the room. Jesse immediately threw the cloth aside and Henry would have laughed at his petulant expression if he weren't still angry himself.

"They should have gone ahead and heightened the dosage." Thompson explained. "Someone was being overly cautious-"

"Yeah, well they-" Jesse bit back his less than polite remark when he felt Joan's hand on his arm. It was similar to how Ruth would have reacted.

Thompson switched the bottles on the end table and asked him to wait it out another half hour before going back on the more powerful prescription.

Henry glared at the back of the man's head, arms crossed and hands clenched in to fists.

When they were left on their own again, Jesse snatched the bottle from the table with his good hand, muttering. "If he thinks I'm actually waiting that long-"

"Alright, so you need to get home." Henry looked toward Joan finally.

"It can w-'

"It can't wait." He said seriously. "Trust me, Joan...it can't."

She looked between the boys to see they were in agreement, it didn't make her feel any better, though.

"If we leave now-"

"I'll be back here late this evening."

She bit her lip, looking toward Jesse once more.

He only nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's important..."

"I feel guilty."

"Unless you pushed him, you had nothing to do with this."

She was silent, eyeing him a moment before nodding faintly and reaching for her coat. "Ok..."

"I'll be back this evening, Hollywood."

Jesse only nodded slowly, counting the medication in his hand. "I'll be here."

They were just out the door when Henry stopped, realizing Joan had backtracked in to the room.

"I'm sorry, again..."

"It's ok." Jesse muttered.

She kissed his cheek apologetically. "Happy birthday, Jesse..."

Henry felt sick to his stomach the rest of the day. When would they ever catch a break...

The one good thing was that he knew Jesse would sleep through his absence and hopefully be feeling better when he got back.

It was nearly eight hours round trip, longer usually, but he'd bent some rules on the highways. Joan had been exceedingly apologetic when they'd pulled in to the drive of her grandparents' home, swearing up and down that she would think of something to make it up to the boys. Henry had interrupted her chorus of apologies patiently and shook his head, telling her she was where she needed to be, and to give him a call when she knew for sure what had happened.

He hated driving alone, at least with someone else in the truck he could be distracted. He hated the silence of the truck, just as much as he'd hated the silence of Jesse's room before he'd woken up. It left room for his thoughts to wander, back to the afternoon on Fireball Beach. It would all play out in his mind's eye, from reading over the half written withdrawal slip to the sickening sound of the Hornet's frame being decimated every time it hit the sand.

Jesse had gotten out of that car...he'd been conscious-

Henry flipped the radio on suddenly and reached for a cigarette.

When he did finally make it back, he realized he shouldn't have been surprised that they allowed him to come in after visiting hours. It was his brother's birthday...

It was quiet in their corner of the hospital. One or two other patients had celebrated a birthday or anniversary while Jesse was admitted and family of those patients had made a bit of a ruckus during their visits. None of the staff would have even known it was Jesse's birthday if not for the fact that they read his medical charts every day.

Henry was just glad to see that Jesse wasn't in nearly the amount of pain he'd been in when he'd left earlier that afternoon, and they spent the night reading through the newspapers Joan had brought back to the truck for him to bring, catching up as much as they could on what was happening in Piston Cup.

* * *

"He's conscious. Pretty beat up from the sounds of things, but he'll make it."

Emily had only been home a day before going back to work. She looked between Joe and her father as the Thomasville administrator shared what he'd been able to learn. Without waiting for a pause in the conversation, she got up and excused herself quietly before turning to leave the office, she didn't need specifics. She'd heard what she needed to.

She'd always been told she had a vivid imagination, and the images from the paper had provided more than enough for her to go by.

There was paperwork to do anyway.

Some of the new regulations she was to file made sense, others were redundant and only reworded rules that were already in the bylaws. She needed to set up times with the different car companies to arrange meetings for the new safety equipment that had been requested and to ease any fears or rumors circulating of Piston Cup coming to an end.

She already wished she were back in Radiator Springs.

Sitting at her desk, she thought over how much was already changing. The season wasn't over by any means but the window had passed for drivers to withdraw short notice before races and a number of high ranking names had lost their chance at the Cup that year. It was really only down to two or three for the few weeks remaining and if she were being completely honest with herself, she wasn't interested. She already knew she wouldn't be attending the banquet that fall, there was no reason to.

Emily looked up quickly, realizing at least half an hour had passed and she'd only stared vacantly at the polished surface of her desk. Maybe she should go home, she still wasn't in the right frame of mind.

She jumped when she realized Alex was standing just within the threshold of the door. With a hand to her chest, she scowled at him. "Alexander, you nearly gave me a heart attack-"

"Sorry."

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he crossed the room to stand in front of her desk. His spotless white sweater made her think of how he never really fit in out west.

"Drivers are getting together and I'm waiting here till it's time to go."

Her brows lowered and she looked up at him, lips pursed skeptically. "You're actually getting together with other drivers..."

"European circuit."

Well, that explained the sweater. He apparently thought he'd impress someone.

Too bad they'd probably be more interested in Hudson...

"Uh huh...well go wait in the courtyard, I'm going home."

"What? You just got here."

"And I'm going home."

She stood and watched him quietly as he studied her, straightening her skirt and reaching for her handbag.

"Are you alright?"

She blinked and looked up at him again, she couldn't remember the last time he'd asked after her well being.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You look worn out."

It was her turn to shrug, shouldering her bag and reaching for the key to her office. She spoke as she gestured for him to leave the room and followed him out before locking the door behind her.

"I suppose I am..."

* * *

As the holidays grew closer, Jesse became more and more impatient to get home. At least once a day he would ask a nurse, or try to see if Dr. Thompson had moved on his stance of _we'll have to wait and see._

His arm had been removed from the cast and in to a sling, and he'd glared at Henry over the laughter it had caused to see the change in his arm. The muscle loss had been startling and he'd nearly panicked until it was explained that with exercise and proper use, it would be back to the way it was in no time.

They'd taken multiple x-rays of his chest to make sure everything was mending well. Which, despite the constant feeling of an anvil lodged between his ribs, was healing properly and the team that had been put in charge of his care was cut in half nearly overnight.

He just wanted to go home. He could read directions, there wasn't anything they were doing that couldn't be done at home.

Finally. _Finally._ On a cold morning in the beginning of November they were told Jesse could go home. Miraculously, Henry had driven the Ford down on a whim and Jesse would be able to lie in the back seat.

"Now." Dr. Thompson spoke seriously, looking between the two and making sure they were both listening carefully. "There are very specific instructions you'll need to follow unless you want to end up with another extended stay."

The boys were silent, but he knew they were listening.

"You're first follow up appointment will be in three weeks, it's already been scheduled with your local hospital. If there is any trouble beforehand, or you're unable to make the appointment, don't hesitate to call."

Jesse only watched the man quietly, they'd explained that morning that they would be timing his discharge with his pain medications. They would wait as long as possible and he'd only be allowed the afternoon round once he was in the truck. There was too much of a risk of injury if he were to try to leave the building while under the effects of the medication. He was silently dreading that the pain from weeks ago would resurface, and he was allowing it to distract him from the conversations going on around him.

"Do you have an air conditioner?" Thompson asked.

Henry blinked, that seemed like a strange request. "No, we've never-"

Thompson stepped closer to Jesse's bed and gestured to his abdomen. "While the ribs look good in the last x-rays we've taken, the lungs and muscles of the chest wall are still weak. See how he's breathing?"

Henry only nodded.

"An air conditioner will make it easier on him as he continues to heal."

He nodded again, meeting Jesse's eyes and clearing his throat quietly as they shared a look.

"We'll get the paperwork started and you should be on your way home within the hour."

Silence fell over the room after he left and Henry started rounding up anything Jesse hadn't been able to reach. He started organizing it on to the chair he'd been occupying for months, making the mental note to himself that he would not be missing that particular piece of furniture any time soon. They were going _home_ after the worst two months either of them could imagine. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and all he could think of was how nice it would be to be in familiar surroundings again.

"An air conditioner..."

He knew that would have struck a chord, it had with him. "Jesse..."

"An _air conditioner_ -" He repeated weakly. Was that really all it might have taken?

Henry had to turn away, working his jaw as he looked out in to the hallway and only turned back when he realized the nurse with the wheelchair was coming to their room.

Jesse despised it.

"It's just to get you downstairs."

" _You_ sit in it."

"I didn't nearly die in an accident. I don't need it. I've been walking this hospital for months."

Henry let him whine about it, but it had given him a chance to make sure the Ford was parked at the right entrance and that all of their personal belongings had been cleared from the room. He stood in the doorway to see Jesse was still giving them a hard time.

"For the love of- do you wanna go home or not?"

"I've wanted to go home since I woke up."

"Then shut up and let them help you."

Jesse only glared for a moment before finally relenting. It had taken long enough for him to even be able to sit up straight and he was shaky when the nurses had offered their arms for him to pull himself up.

Henry suddenly understood Jesse's reluctance and stepped forward. They were both barely over five feet, he didn't see that ending well.

"Alright. Here."

"Wait. Hold on-"

"Why?"

"Because that _hurts_." Jesse hissed, he might be on the mend but there was still a lot of pain pushing it's way through, and his fear of what had happened on his birthday made him anxious.

"Sorry." Henry muttered, loosening the hold he had around his brother's shoulders and stood beside him, arm poised to catch him but not touching him.

It seemed to take forever for Jesse to finally be ready to leave the room, and Henry watched carefully as they started down the hall. Jesse reminded him of a dog that had been kicked one too many times, ready to lash out at anyone that misstepped, but what concerned him the most was the fact that his face had drained of all color. Jesse was white as a sheet by the time they had gotten him outside.

"Are you alright?"

"Can we please get in the car."

He nodded, going around to the other side to open the other rear door in case he could help from that side. The grip Jesse had on his arm was enough to bruise and after some very tense and harsh words he was lying in the back seat of the Ford he'd won his first race in.

The nurse who had helped them outside held out a plastic cup of water and the medications Henry was sure he was screaming for.

She wished them safe travels and let him know they'd all be thinking about them. Henry had nodded and offered his thanks while trying to make sure Jesse was alright and handing off what the nurse had given him. After making sure everything was in order, he jumped in to the driver's seat and started out of the main lot.

"You gunna be alright back there?"

He couldn't hear what Jesse might have said and rolled his window up to hear better. "Hmm?"

"Yeah-" Jesse cleared his throat roughly, pain lacing the edges of his voice. "I just wanna go home..."

"We're going, Hollywood." Henry muttered, turning out of the lot and on to the main street. "We're going."

Henry was thankful that Jesse had fallen asleep shortly after. He'd driven as carefully as possible, dodging any rough looking patches of road, potholes and taking the old gravel road to the house at a crawl so as not to jostle his brother about.

Getting out of the Ford, he paused briefly in the driveway and breathed the familiar air of home, taking a moment before opening the back door of the car.

It didn't take much to wake Jesse, and when he'd gotten out of the car with some help, he stared up at the steps of the porch in trepidation.

"One at a time, right?"

"Yeah..."

The steps he ran up and down on a daily basis, coming or going, sometimes completely jumping because he couldn't be bothered with actually taking them one at a time, now posed as one of his biggest challenges. In an attempt for some levity, he bit a question through clenched teeth as they cleared the fourth step.

"How's the car?"

"Oh." Henry started. "You know I just got it finished the other day."

"No kidding. What do I owe ya-"

"Arm and a leg."

Jesse huffed, breathing heavily and glaring at the step beneath his feet. "I don't think you want either of mine."

"Why's that?"

"Well-" He grit his teeth, stopping when they were halfway. "I was in this accident-"

His grip on Henry's arm was painful, but he didn't say anything.

"-and now they're not worth anything-"

Henry set his jaw, concern evident as he took in Jesse's pale complexion and shining eyes. "Take a break, kid..."

Jesse's teeth clicked together violently and he stared at the back door, mouth quirked in an attempt to keep the tears that threatened to fall at bay.

Once again, there was nothing Henry could do other than watch his younger sibling struggle with limitations they shouldn't have to deal with before the age of twenty-five. He stood with a hand near Jesse's back to keep him from falling backwards.

Jesse blinked rapidly a few times and brushed a hand under his nose. "Well, I'm home, right. This is what I wanted-"

He swayed and reached for Henry's arm again, holding with a vice grip as he forced himself the rest of the way up the steps. He apologized quietly for snapping at him in pain while they'd gotten in to the house but Henry didn't step away from him until he was situated on the couch.

He watched in concern, his instinct being to suggest they go to Jefferson with how harsh his breathing was, but he also knew Jesse would be against the idea. Instead, he called around to the others to see if the air conditioner he'd called The Merch about could be put in place that afternoon.

Jesse was asleep before he'd gotten off the phone.


	46. 1954 Piston Cup and a Lame Horse

He knew the others had been frustrated with him, but Jesse had made it clear he just didn't want anyone around for a while. It had been stressful enough trying to learn a new routine once he was home, he hadn't wanted to answer a thousand questions on top of that. By late November he still hadn't attempted to make it to the second floor of the house and had felt useless when Henry was forced to bring different articles down from his room.

The living room had become his room, beside the couch were stacks of books, newspapers, clothing because he was not about to be stuck wearing the thin gray outfits the hospital had sent him home with, and film reels. Folded across the back of the couch was the heavy quilt his mother had made for his sixteenth birthday because the air conditioner Junior and River had helped put in place made the room an ice box.

Like he wasn't miserable enough already.

He still wasn't very mobile, but had begun at least making small trips through the house. More often than not, he waited until he knew Henry would have errands to run or was at least away long enough that he'd be able to get up and down the steps to the backyard a few times without someone hovering over his shoulder. He'd taken a little pride in the look of surprise directed at him when Henry pulled in to the drive to see him sitting at the table on the porch.

Even in November, it had been warmer than that living room and Jesse had for the first time in his life appreciated the crispness of the afternoon air as he sat with his arms crossed in his old, beaten up, brown jacket.

"So he lives."

He'd grinned. "At least another day."

Jesse had very slowly started to feel more and more like himself. He'd been able to sit upright long enough for Joan to cut his hair, and he had to admit she'd done a pretty good job. He'd only been to the barbershop in town a few times the year before, because that was something Ruth had always done.

Two years ago he wouldn't have trusted Joan with scissors near his head.

He couldn't really place what exactly had changed.

So he'd worked his way up to at least sitting outside, and Henry had noticed an immediate change in his attitude. A chance to get out from those four walls had done him good.

Within moments, Henry wished he wasn't so mobile, though.

"I want to see the car."

His expression wavered, and Jesse could tell he was going to tell him no. "Jesse, I-"

"Please."

Aside from a few lingering superficial injuries, no one would be able to tell Jesse had nearly lost his life three months before. He was stiff and wasn't running any marathons, sure, but the only physical evidence Henry could pinpoint on the surface was the bruising to the side of Jesse's head, and that had finally begun to fade, disappearing completely at least along his jaw, otherwise only a few areas of discolored skin remained.

He was pushing it, though. Henry wasn't even sure Jesse was supposed to be outside. His follow-up appointment was the next day. They probably should have waited for specific instructions.

When the kid had something in his head, though...

With a sigh and a look out to the barn, he finally nodded. "Yeah, come on..."

He stepped forward to help Jesse down the steps and raised a brow in further surprise when Jesse waved him off.

"I got it. It might take a while...but I got it."

It didn't take as long as Henry had expected, and he only offered any help once they were on the uneven ground in the yard as they crossed the area to the barn.

"You're sure..." He asked as he moved the board that kept the doors from rolling open.

"Mmm."

"Ok." He sighed and tossed the piece of wood aside before grabbing the metal handle and heaving the door open.

The only sound was the door sliding across the metal tracks as afternoon light poured in to the barn. Henry shoved his hands in his back pockets as he waited for Jesse's reaction. When the silence continued, he took in the few bruises that still remained before he bit his lip and turned away.

He wouldn't be playing cards with him any time soon, Jesse had mastered his poker face while in that hospital.

Muttering something about letting him know when he was ready, Henry left him alone just inside the door.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone before rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Walking and standing were alright in small doses, but he was still easily fatigued. He'd wanted to see the car, though, he wasn't going to go crawling back to the house just yet.

Walking further in to the open space that once housed mountains of straw bales, or at least it had seemed that way when he was a kid, he flipped the heavy light switch to see that it was now home to a pile of scrap metal.

That was all he could make of it.

The hood reminded him of an accordion, what little chrome he could make out was twisted and dented beyond repair. It had sat so long in the barn, out of eyesight, that there was more than just a fine layer of dust hiding the navy blue paint. _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ was illegible on either side, the windshield was gone, the driver's side front tire was barely hanging on, what once were smooth, curved, edges to the sleek and massive frame were now jagged, sharp and dangerous.

Jesse stood in front of his car, hands in the pockets of his jacket as his gaze lingered over what was left of his livelihood. His voice was soft as he broke the silence of the barn, barely above a murmur.

"What a pair we make..."

Four years of his life lay in a mangled mess. Four years of flying over dirt and sand tracks had ended so violently that he wasn't sure the Hornet, _his_ Hudson Hornet, would ever see dirt again. It was like staring a lame horse in the face.

Sorry, Trigger, but the leg can't be fixed.

There was only one way to treat a lame horse.

Sniffing indignantly, defiantly, he walked around the vehicle slowly, stopping at the passenger rear tire and very carefully knelt until his knee was against the floor. Jesse didn't remember much of the accident, thankfully, from the looks of things, but he did remember thinking the tire had blown.

With some effort, he braced an elbow against the floor and twisted around with a faint hiss of pain to look up under the frame. Cursing lowly, he flinched at a jolt of pain before pushing through it and lying flat on his back before sliding under the car just far enough to see.

"Son of a-"

He blinked a few times and reached up with his good arm in an attempt to dislodge the enormous piece of driftwood that was wedged along the rear axle. There was no way it was moving, when he inspected it further, he realized the debris had firmly planted itself in the undercarriage of the car. He lay there on the barn floor, staring up at what could have easily killed him.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

He'd jumped in surprise and then realized that it must have been alarming for his brother to look in to the barn and only see his legs sticking out from beneath, considering the shape he was in.

"I'm alright."

"I don't care if you're _right as rain_. What are you doing under that car!"

"I'm look-"

" _At what?_ "

"Will you let me finish?"

If Jesse were in better health, Henry would have dragged him out from under the car by a leg. Seeing his nearly immobile younger brother lying under the vehicle he'd nearly died in was the last thing he'd ever wanted to see.

Jesse heard an exasperated sigh and could only just see his brother's shoes in his peripheral vision, able to interpret his impatience and frustration.

"Fine. What is it that you're looking at."

"What caused the accident."

There was a brief silence. "And?"

"There's a huge driftwood log under here."

Henry shifted and knelt beside the tire. "Lemme see...you need any help?"

"I'm alright." It would have been much easier with a low roll cart but he made the best of it and inched his way back out.

"Don't do that again, please."

"Sorry."

Henry only hummed and took a look at the undercarriage, much quicker and more agile than Jesse.

Jesse only raised a brow with a look to the side at the colorful language that followed. "Yeah, I thought so too."

"Are you kidding me? How does- where did this come from-"

"The depths of hell?"

"No kidding."

Jesse was silent as Henry returned to his side, grinning sheepishly at the look he was being given.

"I said I was s-"

"Get back in the house."

"Henry."

" _Don't,_ Jesse. Just don't alright."

Jesse's tone softened, catching his mood and unable to apologize any more than he already had. "Ok..."

Henry waited for him to leave the entrance of the barn, only giving him a moment to look back at the Hornet solemnly before rolling the door shut with a bang.

* * *

He'd overdone it, and he'd done his very best to hide that from Henry. There'd been no fooling the doctor at his appointment, though, and he'd been restricted to remaining indoors. He could continue in progressing with his daily activities, but he couldn't go outside.

The others had finally visited, without warning so he couldn't turn them away. They'd all grabbed chairs from the kitchen table and had converged on the living room. If Jesse couldn't go anywhere, they'd go to him.

They skirted the subject of the crash, but there were other aspects of Piston Cup he wanted caught up on.

"You'll never guess who's won the Cup this year." Lou muttered as she lifted the jar of shine from the coffee table. Jesse shook his head when she offered, his medications were still too strong to mess with the likes of Junior's shine.

"You finally win something, River?" He asked good naturedly with a raised brow.

"Nope, wasn't me."

Jesse frowned and he looked back toward Louise.

"Alexander Piston."

" _What?_ "

"You heard me."

Jesse's face twisted in disgust and he looked up see Henry shrug a shoulder.

"It was all technicality." Junior explained. "So many drivers either had penalties in the late season, or had made blunders in their withdrawals, or had problems with vehicles that he literally won on technicality."

"I was leading." Jesse knew he didn't have a chance after his accident, rules were rules and he hadn't finished the season, but _Piston_?

"Mmhmm." River nodded. "And a lot of people aren't happy."

"With good reason. Piston can't drive to save his life."

"Ironic coming from you."

"Funny." Jesse offered a look before shaking his head. The very idea of Piston being awarded a Piston Cup was bizarre. "Are you going to the banquet?"

They all shook their heads and Jesse realized they would have already left town if they had been attending. The end of the year dinner was that weekend.

"Well, not missing much I guess."

* * *

Emily sat at the table with her chin in her hand. The venue was beautiful, her dress was breathtaking...

And she was bored out of her mind.

If she heard Alex mention one more time how pleased he was to win a Piston Cup she was going to throw her wine all over his white shirt. How would that make this reception look.

He'd won the Piston Cup, and married within two weeks, he continually said it was the best month of his life and Emily's face hurt from the smiles she'd been forcing since the banquet.

A dessert plate was set in front of her and she glanced up to see her mother taking the seat beside her.

"At least _try_ to look happy for your brother, couldn't you?"

"Yes, Mother."

Her mother was either ignoring her quiet attitude or had already moved on to something else, because she didn't react to her daughter's feigned happiness as she sat up and refolded the napkin in her lap.

Emily wasn't sure if her mother was paying attention or not, but she still excused herself from the table and crossed the room to the small lobby and coat room. Digging through her clutch, she found some change and looked about the lobby before spying the payphone. With a sigh, she set her belongings on the little shelf beside the phone before dialing a number.

"Hello?"

"H-" Emily made a face and shook her head. "Joe?"

"Speaking."

"What are you doing-" She realized she should probably clarify. "It's Emily."

"I assumed so, you don't sound like Alex." She could tell he was distracted.

"I was expecting someone else to pick up."

"I-...ok." She could tell he didn't understand, but figured it was none of his business, and answered her original question. "I'm catching up some of the paperwork we were trying to get through before your family left."

Emily nodded, though he couldn't see her. With as many meetings that had been taking place, it was hard to stay on top of everything. She suddenly realized where his confusion was coming from. "Wait. You're in the main offices, aren't you?"

"I am."

She put a hand to her mouth, she'd been so out of sorts lately. "I thought I called home."

"Well I work from home when I can, but not your home."

She grinned and huffed faintly in amusement. "Well maybe you can answer my question, you have better connections than Meredith anyway."

Meredith had been her caretaker growing up, and once she was old enough to take care of herself, the matronly woman had continued to be more of a mother figure, still living in the Piston estate.

"I may." Joe conceded.

"Well, she's been keeping me updated whenever we're away on how Mr. Hudson is doing, and I hadn't heard recently. I just feel like someone should be reaching out after all that's happened."

There was a pause before Joe spoke. "Last I heard he was doing pretty well." There wasn't much he could tell her, his information came from those he crossed paths with at the track, and with the season officially over, he wouldn't see those individuals until spring.

"He was sent home, though? I thought I'd heard that..." She twirled the corsage she'd taken off her dress, tired of the pin stabbing her whenever she moved.

"About a month ago, yes."

Emily nodded again, more for her own benefit than anything. "Good."

"I can see what I can find out and let you know?"

"Oh, don't go out of your way, Joe. I don't want to be too intrusive either."

"Alright."

"I'll let you get back to work, sorry for interrupting."

"You didn't know."

"Have a good night."

"Enjoy the reception."

"Yeah..." She barely kept the sarcasm from her voice as she hung up the phone. With another sigh, she turned her attention back on to the corsage she held and studied the petals of the flowers. She couldn't remember what it was called, a blue-eyed...something, but the way it was paired with the white lily she thought to be very pretty.

She paused in twirling the small arrangement and looked up to see her own reflection in the darkened windows.

Her mother looked up vaguely when she returned to the table. "Emily what is it?"

"Mother, do you still have the box your corsage came in?"

* * *

They crept in to December and Jesse seemed to be improving in spurts once he had gotten home. He still hadn't left the house, but he wasn't confined to the couch and had been able to even make it upstairs a few times. The first night he'd slept in his own bed, Henry thought something was wrong. When nearly ten hours had passed with no sign of him, he had worried.

Jesse had been in such a deep sleep when he'd checked on him that he'd closed the door as quietly as possible and had left him alone.

He and Joan still didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone, though. They'd been invited to an early holiday party, Jesse of course included, but they hadn't mentioned it to him. They didn't plan on going. It wouldn't be fair to leave Jesse home alone while they went to a social gathering.

Jesse had found out, though. Just because he wasn't leaving the house didn't mean he wasn't aware of things going on.

He suddenly realized how Ruth must have felt more often than not.

Lying on the couch, he read as Henry went through the get well and sympathy cards that had filled the mantel piece. They'd been bombarded when Jesse had returned home, and the freezer and refrigerator were filled to the brim once more.

"You want any of these cards?"

"No." They were just something picked up from the post office or drug store. The few flower arrangements that had been sent, he recognized from The Merch.

He glanced up from his book as Henry went to pick up the flowers from the end table.

"Not that one."

"What?"

"Not this one." Jesse took the blue and white flowers from him and went back to his book.

"Is there a reason?"

"I like this one."

"Do you even know who it's from?"

"No. I just like it."

Henry raised a brow but conceded. "Ok." He was sure it was the color scheme, and he wasn't going to fight him on it.

"You should take Joan to that party."

"Jesse."

"What? You should."

Henry threw the cards and dying flowers in the trash and returned to the living room. "That isn't fair to you."

"It's not fair to you to make you sit around here. I'm not helpless. It's almost 8 anyway, I'll be asleep after I take these-" He picked up the prescription bottle. "-and you'd be sitting around here not doing anything."

Henry was silent as he studied him, searching for any sign of uncertainty in his eyes. "You're absolutely sure."

" _Yes_ , Henry. I'm sure. Call Joan and do something for yourself for a change."

Henry wasn't comfortable with the idea, but Jesse had a point. He'd be asleep in less than an hour and there'd be nothing for Henry to do anyway.

Henry tilted his head as he considered it before nodding finally. "Yeah, alright." He'd go home first, call Joan and get cleaned up and still be there in time.

Jesse had gotten tired of answering that _yes he was sure_ , and by the third time repeating himself had threatened to kick Henry out.

"I'd like to see that."

Henry finally agreed and Jesse was completely on his own, for an extended amount of time, for the first time since August.

Jesse had seen him out but then lingered for a time in the kitchen. He'd sworn up and down to his brother that he was fine, and he had been, but as soon as he found himself alone in the darkening house he'd felt a crushing weight settle over him. He couldn't quite place it, and in an attempt to distract himself, had gotten everything he'd need for the rest of the evening.

Henry deserved time on his own. He wasn't going to take that from him.

The house was silent, eerily so. He couldn't remember it ever being like this. Lying on the couch and waiting for the pain killers to take effect, he studied the little flowers he'd admonished Henry over before closing his eyes, wondering how it was only over a year ago that the house was alive with chatter and laughter. Even when it had only been himself and Ruth, there was at least the sound of one of them moving about, sometimes a radio, but it was something.

Now the only sound was the breeze whistling outside and finding its way in to the cracks around door frames and windows of the house. He had once promised Ruth he'd fix them but had never gotten around to it. It was something he'd failed to do.

He swallowed thickly and shifted carefully to get more comfortable, eventually being lulled to sleep by the sound of a tree branch scraping a window to one of the upstairs bedrooms.


	47. I'm Here

**AN: This poor kid...**

* * *

 **January 1955**

Emily glanced over her reflection briefly in the mirror before leaving to return to the office. Hats weren't something that tended to agree with her and her hair was always a mess, but she wasn't going to forgo keeping her ears warm for the sake of fashion. It's not like she was there to impress anyone anyway.

Since the holidays, she'd had very little time to herself. Usually the off season was when everyone could slow down, catch their breath and get ready to start all over again. Once Christmas and New Year were over, she'd hit the ground running with trying to stay on top of all the new activity in the main offices.

Every day it seemed a different car company was contacting them to make sure the sport would indeed have an opening race in May. On more than one occasion, Emily had fought to keep her tone civil as she'd explained that _yes, Piston Cup would be resuming as usual for the 1955 season._ If they had communicated with their own representatives, that she had already been in contact with, they wouldn't need to be calling her. She didn't have the time for it anyway.

She and a number of administrators had been going through the new regulation suggestions with a fine tooth comb. Before the spring Piston Cup meeting, it had been suggested that teams, officials, drivers and sponsors, voice their concerns ahead of time in an attempt to keep the flow of the meeting going. There were so many individuals asking the same questions that they were attempting to keep it as simple as possible.

Emily had compiled a list of those questions and had prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon typing handouts that would be given to the teams at the meeting in March.

"Are we finally caught up? I can get this started now?" She looked over the list beside her typewriter and the crumpled forms that had come in from all over the east coast.

"If not we'll open the floor for questions at the meeting."

Emily glanced up as her father cleared away the forms that had been so painstakingly read over to make sure they were including everyone. A few of them hadn't been questions, but angry remarks over how the rest of the season had gone, how in the concern over what had caused Hudson's accident, the rest of the season had been a joke, with Alexander Piston taking away the season's trophy.

One written comment had stuck out to her specifically.

 _Hudson should have been handed the 1954 Piston Cup. We all knew he was going to get it._

She never would have expected it to be signed by Leroy Heming.

There were so many changes coming that she felt like she was stuck waiting for the storm to come. It reminded her of when she was a child, thunder rumbling across the mountains in the distance as the skies would begin to darken. She'd never been sure exactly when the rain would start, but when it finally did, hard cold water droplets would smart like a hornet sting, leaving her with red marks on her arms and legs if she hadn't made it inside in time.

She'd learned to seek shelter with the first threatening rumbles pretty quickly.

Emily bit her lip and nodded, realizing she hadn't responded to her father's comment, and set to work. She looked up at him as he left the room before getting her first sheet of paper ready. It was going to be a long afternoon.

It had been a long few months, and while trying to wade through the never ending paperwork, she'd been forced to juggle multiple duties at once. While waiting for replies from different car companies on how they were going to upgrade the safety of their vehicles, she was fielding questions from team sponsors who wanted to know just when exactly would all of these issues be resolved. More than once, she'd resorted to the answer of _you'll know when I know._

She'd become very frustrated a few times, hearing Team #51's sponsor asking after the _boy's_ condition. She was never the individual being questioned, but she'd very much wanted to cut in with some smart remarks and ask a few questions herself. She wanted to know why Hudson's sponsor was asking anyone other than Hudson, as well as to inform him that the _boy_ had a name. If she were making as much money as he had been the '54 season, she would definitely address her driver by name.

She was not a sponsor, though. She was Emily Piston, heiress to a sport undergoing an identity crisis.

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned forward until her elbows rested on the polished surface of the desk. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times in an effort to focus better before finally getting to work.

 _1\. What will be done in the future to prevent an event such as took place at Fireball Beach?_

* * *

"You have to slow down."

Jesse looked up from tying his shoe. "I'm not running _a race,_ Henry, I'm going for a walk."

He eyed his younger brother quietly, disagreeing with how much he was doing and how soon.

"The doctors at Jefferson cleared it, and if I'm in pain then I'll stop."

It was cold outside. Jesse voluntarily leaving the house when it was cold usually meant something was wrong.

Or maybe he was just that determined.

"Here." Jesse reached for an old magazine he'd been flipping through and tossed it across the couch.

Henry glanced over the cover of the Time magazine before looking back at Jesse. "These are skiers."

"Yeah, well, they didn't exactly have running in the '52 Winter Olympics."

"You're going to, what? Follow their training?"

"Yes and no." Jesse took the booklet back and flipped through the glossy pages until he found the main article. "They started small, like anyone else and worked their way up and then did high altitude training."

Henry had heard of it somewhere before. He didn't need to ask what it was anyway. He knew that high altitude training would help with lung capacity.

"So you hiking mountains?"

"Just walking for now..."

"In twenty-five degree weather."

"Yeah..."

"Jesse, I just don't-"

"Look at me." Jesse stood from where he'd been perched on the edge of the couch and gestured to himself. "I need to start doing something or I'm gunna be out of shape."

"You've _lost_ weight in all this, genius."

"And I've done nothing but eat since I got home."

Henry looked him over carefully, his jaw set in frustration.

"I can't just sit around forever." Jesse muttered.

"It has only been five months."

"Four months and two weeks."

"I don't see how that helps your argument but thank you for clarifying."

Jesse had already shrugged on his coat and Henry had to admit that unless he was having an off day, the kid's mobility had been improving in leaps and bounds. It was just that he knew how Jesse was in the cold, he couldn't see how his body would be able to handle the tense posture when he'd been immobile less than half a year before.

"If you're not back in an hour, I'm running you down with the truck myself."

Jesse hadn't intended on being out nearly that long, and made sure to tell him even where he intended to go.

"Why don't you drive down to the track and walk there?"

He hesitated in the doorway and backtracked in to the house.

"I can't drive until they say."

Henry inclined his head as he crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the kitchen chair he'd always used growing up. The wood scuffed against the tile floor softly as the chair shifted with his weight.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh-" Jesse closed the door, shrugging a shoulder as he held the door knob. "Sure."

"Are you afraid of driving?"

He looked dumbstruck and turned away from the door completely to face Henry. "Am I what?"

Henry repeated himself, enunciating each word as if Jesse hadn't heard him the first time. "Are you afraid of driving?"

"Why should I be?"

"Oh I dunno." He braced a hand against the back of the chair and looked Jesse over. "Maybe because less than six months ago you were in a one car accident worse than anyone is this area has ever seen."

"It wasn't my fault."

"That's why I said _accident_."

Jesse hesitated and shook his head before shrugging both shoulders. "No. I mean-...I don't think anyway. Won't really know till I get the Hornet run-"

"Oh, come on, Jesse-"

His walk and been completely forgotten with the impending argument and Jesse bristled suddenly. "I'm not just _getting rid of it_. Henry, that's my car-"

"You did look at it the one time you were out there, didn't you?" It would be less-"

"I don't care what it's going to cost." Gesturing in frustration, Jesse stepped away from the door. " _That's_ the car that got us here. _That's_ the car that's won three Piston Cups and taken us all over the east coast. I'm not taking it to the scrap yard."

"I'm not saying to take it to the scrap yard." Henry amended. "But the integrity of- well the whole thing- is going to be weaker unless you _really_ take the time to-"

"That's what I intend to do."

"Maybe we should contact Hudson."

"Just for parts."

"Jesse, by the time you're done ordering parts you'll have a different car anyway!"

"Then so be it!"

The two stared at each other in silence, both of them surprised that they had allowed the conversation to turn in to what it had.

With a low sigh Henry started over. "I know what that car means, Jesse, trust me I know just as well as you do. I can't allow you on a track in a vehicle I don't trust, though."

"What'll it take for you to trust it..."

He shifted and ran a hand through his hair before tapping his fingers rhythmically against the back of the chair, staring at the kitchen table top and vaguely noting in the back of his mind that they'd never taken away the other chairs. Five chairs circled the table that separated himself and Jesse.

He finally spoke again, without looking up. "To be production line quality."

"Then that's what it'll be." Jesse replied before turning to leave.

He was halfway down the steps when Henry pushed the screen door open. "Hollywood."

Jesse paused and looked over his shoulder.

"We'll make it work, alright..."

Meeting his brother's eyes, he studied him a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

* * *

It was at least a week before they got a chance to get a good look at the car.

"You're going to work on this on top of trying to get back in shape."

"Mmm..." Jesse muttered distractedly. His brother was right, there wasn't much that could be saved without extensive work. Maybe the seats...

He forced the driver's side door open and looked over the dash. "Well this isn't too-" He cut himself off when the rear view mirror fell to the floor.

"Were you going to say _bad_?"

"No."

"Uh huh."

Henry wasn't thrilled when he watched Jesse slide in to the driver's seat, but remained silent and watched from where he stood near the front tire in case he needed to step in. Jesse could try to fool everyone as much as he wanted, but there was no way he was doing as well as he let on.

Henry could already hear it in his voice when he spoke again.

Jesse's tone was quiet and distracted as he looked over the steering wheel and dash, reaching out idly and turning a radio dial. His expression hardened when that even fell off in to his hand.

"Have we heard from anyone..."

Henry knew what he meant. "Got a message from Kingsley but haven't returned it yet. I will when I get back later tonight." He tested the mirror beside him and was impressed that it didn't move. "Couple of suppliers have asked how you are and offered wishes for your recovery..."

"River told me the meeting is in March."

"I heard that too. You up for driving that long?"

"I can't." Jesse shook his head. "I can't sit in a car that long, not to travel that far."

At least he was admitting he still had limitations.

Henry knelt near the door, half afraid that would fall off under his weight. "I'll get the minutes from Joe." After a moment he reached out and gently tapped the side of Jesse's head. "How's this doin'?"

"It's alright...

"You hurt?"

"A little."

Henry glanced about the interior of the car, taking in the damage quietly. Jesse couldn't even sit up completely straight. The roof was caved in above his head, there was sand all over the floor and crammed in to the details of the dash. Looking at where the stick shift was, he suddenly realized where the injuries to Jesse's abdomen had come from. He blinked a few times and looked back up to study Jesse's profile.

Jesse was staring at the dash with one hand on the steering wheel. The last thing he remembered from Fireball Beach was that he'd slept in the car before the race. That, and the whole tire debacle. He'd been so comfortable leaning back in his seat and dozing through the afternoon.

Now he wanted to run.

Even the glass over the speedometer had smashed, he was surprised he hadn't been injured further with cuts and lacerations from the shards that would have created.

"Jesse."

He swallowed thickly and turned his attention back on Henry.

"Are you-" He didn't get a chance to finish his question of _are you alright_ before Jesse was shaking his head.

"Alright." Henry muttered quietly, pushing the poor excuse of a door out of his way before kneeling beside the car and reaching forward to put his arms around the other as he turned toward him. He rubbed a hand over Jesse's back, and rested his other hand on the back of his head. "You're ok. Hey. Hollywood, It's ok..."

Jesse didn't speak, not that he expected him to, but the grip he had on his arm was crushing and the kid's shoulders shook as the weight of what had happened caught up with him. Henry closed his eyes in an attempt to keep himself in check as he continued to comfort the only family he had left.

There had to be something better than what he was stuck repeating over and over, but words always fell short when they'd faced any kind of tragedy anyway.

"It's going to be ok. I'm right here."

His chest tightened at the choked sound that escaped Jesse's throat.

"You're alright."


	48. Ups and Downs

They rushed up the steps to beat the incoming rain and Junior glanced over his shoulder once to see that they had only just made it before the first few rain drops had begun to speckle the steps of the Hudsons' back porch.

They'd all known each other long enough that formal greetings had become a thing of the past, and River slid a chair out noisily from the table to make himself at home.

"So where is he, Smokey? I thought you said Hud was cleaning up pretty well."

"You've been here recently."

"Yeah but he wasn't up and around then."

Henry glanced at him and then out at the darkening sky as the breeze picked up, the whispering through the trees had become more of a threatening murmur as he watched the undersides of the leaves appear.

"Turned out to be a bad day."

High temperatures and humidity had been the warning signs for Ruth and they'd gotten pretty good at being able to estimate when there would be problems. Jesse, on the other hand, had a whole different set of medical issues and their guessing games were off the mark.

Louise glanced toward the screen door before taking a seat at the table. "He ok?"

"He will be."

The answer seemed vague, and Lou was reminded of when they'd attempted to get anything out of him while Jesse was still hospitalized.

"Well can we talk to him?" Junior finally asked.

Henry only gestured to the door. "You can try, but he's probably asleep."

Jesse had woken up that morning with a headache severe enough to make him nauseous and the farthest he'd made it was the one trip to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Henry had been surprised at how stiff he was, and had quickly told him to go lie down and that he'd take care of whatever Jesse needed.

"What?" He'd glanced over his shoulder while filling a glass of water, unable to hear what Jesse had muttered.

Jesse had stood in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, one hand held out carefully near the wall in case he lost his balance. "I'm only twenty-four..."

"Could have fooled me, moving around like that old man- what's his name? You know who I'm talking about. He sits all day at The Merch."

"Jenkins."

It was a poor attempt at humor, but at least he'd smiled somewhat...

Jesse had taken a full dose of medication, as compared to the half the doctors had suggested recently and had been out for the count the rest of the morning.

Henry had gotten the hang of being able to tell when Jesse was feeling well and when he wasn't. When the living room was cleaned up and kept looking fairly presentable, aside from maybe a few books scattering the coffee table or the t.v. they'd bought in '52 left on, he knew Jesse was doing pretty well. If it looked like something their mother would have scolded them over, he knew it was a rough day. Jesse could push as much as he wanted, but when it became too much to even tidy up the main room, he called it quits.

Henry wasn't sure it was a great idea to let the others intrude on what was now Jesse's space, but neither was leaving him totally isolated either. He was silent as the others all got up from the table unanimously and filed in to the house one by one.

"Wow that thing is quiet." Junior muttered softly, glancing in the direction of the air conditioner he'd help put in.

"That's because you're cheap. You bought a cheap one." River replied.

"Hey I ordered out of the same-"

"Could you guys be _any_ louder...?"

They fell silent, turning their attention away from each other and the brewing debate over what made a good air conditioner, and looked to the couch to see Jesse had turned away from facing the back cushions to glare at them through squinted eyes.

Junior flinched and looked toward Lou. "Ow- he was talking too-" He gestured to River.

"But you started it."

Junior started to retaliate until Lou raised a brow challengingly. With a huff, he looked back to Jesse, seeming to finally get a good look at him. "Wow...you look awful."

"Oh, come on now, Junior. You hurt my feelings." Jesse muttered through clenched teeth as he sat up slowly, propping himself up in the corner of the sofa and pulling the quilt closer.

"It's freezing in here."

Jesse didn't reply, there was no need to tell him what the room was like.

"We'd just come by to see how you were doing. There's a thing going on at The Speedway we're attending this afternoon. We'd thought we could stop in before going."

Jesse only looked up between the three once he'd gotten his quilt situated, feeling like some ancient family member that needed checked on every so often. Their curiosity over the accident and his hospital stay hadn't helped either, though he had to admit, if it had been any of them he would have reacted the same way.

"What's going on at the track?"

"One of the new suggestions was that drivers have their cars looked over by officials as well as physicals before the season starts."

Jesse tilted his head with a skeptical look. "If it's only suggested why is it being done before the March meeting.

"Bit of a test run, to see how efficient they can be at something like that."

"They've never had a problem with anyone's cars in the past, or any _one_ for that matter."

"Well things are changing, I guess." Lou agreed, but because it was only testing the waters, she wasn't too concerned.

None of them were sure where Jesse's train of thought was coming from, a little surprised at the way his eyes narrowed when he spoke again.

"They do know it's their fault this happened, right?"

The other racers looked between themselves and stuttered a bit before finding the right words at the change in topic.

River stood with his hands on his hips and leaned his weight to one side, watching Jesse with a raised brow. "I've heard a couple different things. A general statement has been made concerning the poor conditions of the track-"

"Right."

"But no one from Florida will admit to it, not even the track administrator."

"Sinclaire's a snake anyway."

Lou rolled her eyes, they were going to get Jesse on a tangent...

"Then of course the loudest of them all lately has been Alex-"

"Piston has no idea what the-"

River only raised his hands up appeasingly. "I'm just repeating what I've heard."

"Well you know how I feel about anything he has to say."

"Yes-" Lou cut in before the topic could move any further. "We do. Anyway, the majority of sponsors thought it was a good idea to-"

"So sponsors _are_ making the calls now."

She rubbed the back of her head, feeling like she wasn't up for this kind of conversation today. Letting her hand fall, it slapped against the leg of her jeans as she looked back at Jesse. " _Some_ , yes. It seems like a fair rule doesn't it? I don't necessarily want to be on a track with someone that can't-"

She cut herself off at the look Jesse gave her. That wouldn't happen though, these physicals were probably to make sure you could read the eye chart, record your height weight and general health anyway.

"Can't what, drive?"

Junior and River shared a glance as they spoke over each other.

"They'll release you to drive at your next appointment, I'm-"

"We've been driving with Piston all these years, why not-"

"Jesse."

The room fell silent and all eyes shifted toward the doorway in to the kitchen, of course the only one who could get Jesse to back down would be Henry.

"Give it a rest, will you?" He muttered as he crossed the room and turned the television on, turning the dial through the few stations they could get in and leaving it on a rerun of The Ed Sullivan Show. As the host's voice quietly filled the room, Henry looked over the others and in a knowing, yet calm tone, advised them to check the time if they needed to be at the track.

Without a word of argument, they all agreed and offered comments of parting before filing out of the house again.

Jesse was silent as they listened to three powerful engines come to life and leave the driveway.

"I know this is a rough day, but you can't-"

"Piston Cup is going to add a bunch of bogus regulations because _they messed up_ and now want to cover their tracks."

"Maybe they should have been put in place before. Whether it's your accident, or someone elses's, Jesse, there is always going to be something changed to make it better.

"It's not my fault that-"

Henry sighed and sat on the edge of the couch, in what little space Jesse left.

"No." He shook his head and stared vacantly at the television screen. "Nothing that happened on that track was your fault. You did what you always do and we ended up here..."

After a few moments of silence Jesse finally spoke hesitantly, his attention on the television as well. "Maybe you should go to that meeting..."

"If I went to that meeting-" Henry looked over his shoulder, catching Jesse's eyes when he glanced away from the television. "-no one would be able to get a word in because I'd make sure they knew exactly how I felt over this whole mess."

He was angry, he'd _been_ angry for months, but he also knew what opening your mouth and upsetting the wrong people could do. It wasn't even Piston that he was afraid of, from what he'd been able to piece together through stories and bits and pieces of information, had been that Piston was livid over what had happened. His personal visit while Jesse was still in the hospital had proven that he at least cared _somewhat._

It was the new administrators and sponsors that he was afraid of.

Mr. Kingsley had only left a message offering well wishes and to ask after Jesse's health, letting them know that everyone was thinking of them.

Piston Cup was a political ring, though, and if he upset someone who just happened to be friends with their sponsor, it could spell trouble for them.

He patted Jesse's leg through the quilt carefully, and offered an encouraging grin. "You just worry about getting better and we'll worry about racing later."

"Hmm."

"Joan's coming after her shift. You want her to bring anything from the diner."

"I can't believe you even asked."

Jesse shifted carefully and settled back in to the cushions of the couch to watch whoever would be performing on the television as Henry got up to call the diner.. He vaguely realized that he was more interested in spending a quiet afternoon with Henry and Joan than he had been with the previous possibility of listening to the others talk about Piston Cup all day.

It made him uncomfortable, guilty.

* * *

"How do they expect-"

"You're just afraid your car won't pass." Emily looked toward her brother knowingly.

"If it doesn't, I'll just have adjustments made until it does."

"You mean you'll _pay_ to have adjustments made." She sat with her chin in one hand, eyeing him with disinterest and grinning faintly when he only shrugged. Her brother could still be likable at times, they were just few and far between, and only ever seemed to happen around her.

Well...maybe their mother...and maybe his new wife...but otherwise she couldn't think of anyone.

"I'd be more concerned with these physicals you're all expected to undergo."

"Already did that."

"Oh?" She sat up and considered him with interest. "What did you think?" Any feedback would be helpful this early, even if it did come from him.

"I don't see how some of the others are going to manage. They put you through the ringer." He rolled his shoulders and stretched for effect. "I felt like I was enlisting for the military."

"Really?"

"I mean, there's the usual stuff, vision and hearing and whatnot, but then they were checking reflexes, balance, making sure I didn't have scoliosis."

"Scoliosis?"

"Yeah, like when your spine isn't straight? It's a little late in our lives to be screening for that. Well...maybe not in Hudson's-"

" _Alex_." Her eyes narrowed quickly and she regarded him in offense. So much for being likable.

"What? It's true."

"It is not true."

"Why?" He raised a brow and looked at her knowingly. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing...but I certainly know that his _spine_ wasn't affected, and to say otherwise is a lie. If you're telling people these things you're only spreading gossip and false information."

Who was she going to have to talk to? How many people would she have to track down and apologize to, explaining that _sorry my brother is a nosebleed and doesn't know what he's talking about, please forget anything he may have said concerning Jesse Hudson._

"Well, either way, I wasn't even sure _I_ was going to pass the physical they've proposed. I didn't even go through anything like that when I started driving."

Emily wouldn't know, she didn't drive, and she looked at him dully before making a note in the margin of one of the forms that would be used at the meeting in March. Her tone became professional and she spoke without looking up at him. "So would you recommend the spring physicals, or are you opposed."

Alex shrugged, not that she was paying attention. "I passed. So in favor, I suppose."

She glanced up at him with pursed lips as she put a tally under _in favor_. She really shouldn't have been surprised.

* * *

Jesse had been able to enjoy the rest of the afternoon once the storm had been through, the help of his medications couldn't be ignored, though, either.

Joan had commented that he looked like a little boy the way he curled up on his side to watch the television, and when he hadn't even so much as batted an eye in offense, Henry was impressed.

"You shouldn't have snapped the way you did at Junior and the others."

"When."

"What do you mean, when?" He huffed. "Is that something you often do now?"

His voice trailed off at the look on Jesse's face, honestly questioning him.

"This afternoon. You all started on the topic of Piston Cup- why are you looking at me like that?"

"What are you talking about?"

" _This afternoon._ " He started again, and could tell Jesse felt like he was being condescending. "When River and Lou-"

"That was days ago."

"No, Jesse. When they were here today."

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from the television that had been turned down so they could all speak while they ate without having to yell at one another. Joan glanced between the two in concern, afraid to speak.

Jesse shook his head with a faint grin, but Joan could tell it was in attempt to see if Henry was pulling one on him.

"No. It was just us today. Stop messin' around."

She watched Henry's profile and how his expression shifted from exasperated confusion to worry, swallowing heavily before stepping in front of the couch.

"Jesse. Lou, River, and Junior were here for at least half an hour this afternoon before going to the track. Tell me you remember that."

Jesse's expression had sobered with how they were watching him and he looked between the two of them as if the right answer might be hidden somewhere in their eyes. Finally looking back toward Henry, he licked his lips and could only shake his head.

"You don't."

"No..."

"You don't remember this afternoon."

"I don't."

Jesse could only watch with wide eyes as Henry stood at his full height again and turned for the kitchen.

Joan put a hand on his arm, knowing both boys were panicking but Henry couldn't just walk away after an admission like that. "Where are you-?"

"Nowhere." He muttered, turning back toward her as he grabbed the phone. "I need to call the hospital."

She nodded, biting her cheek as she joined Jesse in the living room once more and sat beside him on the couch. She reached over and took his hand as he stared vacantly at the television, but she wasn't oblivious to the tell tale shine of tears every time the blue light of the screen lit his face.

Nor was she oblivious to the way he held her fingers when she squeezed his hand comfortingly.


	49. On the Mend

Jesse had laid low for a few weeks. They'd been given a brief explanation over the phone that head injuries of the caliber Jesse had suffered would come with any number of concerning side effects, including what Henry had explained, but that unless it was an absolute emergency there was no need for Jesse to be seen until his next appointment.

He was tired of being poked and prodded at, it made him sore and irritable and he sniffed indignantly while sitting on the examination bed before reaching for his shirt to shrug back on. Brushing his hair back in to place, he stared at the floor while kicking his feet against the leg of the bed.

How Ruth had always been so positive during her visits, he'd never understand. In retrospect, though, she at least knew what a treatment would do for her. This had just been a general follow up to see how he was fairing and to get some explanations concerning his sudden patchy memory.

He glanced up when the door opened, palms of his hands still flat on the bed as he continued to kick a heel against the leg.

"Good morning, Jesse."

"Sir."

Dr. Horner had taken his case, and while a familiar face was usually appreciated by patients, Jesse couldn't help but think of Ruth.

"You've got some pretty phenomenal results here. Full mobility returned to the right ankle, your range of motion in the torso and arm has very nearly returned to normal." He made a note on Jesse's chart as he continued. "Lungs and heart sounded good."

Tossing the clip board on the small table beside him, he turned toward Jesse and steepled his fingers before letting his hands fall. "You're still sore?"

"Yes."

"With the amount of trauma you suffered it's expected. We're going to try changing your medication to an _as needed_ basis but if you notice you're taking it more often than not, you need to let us know."

Jesse only nodded.

Horner stood up from the chair he'd taken and grabbed the head mirror from the wall.

Jesse eyed him silently for a moment before a smirk broke through his attempts at remaining serious. A choked laugh escaped him when he tried to speak.

"What- I'm sorry-" He shook his head and started over. "What is that-"

"It reflects light in to a patient's eyes or ears so I can see better."

"Oh." He cleared his throat and was silent while instructed to look straight ahead. Jesse held his breath to keep himself from laughing when he was nearly nose to nose with the man, only laughing again lowly when he'd backed away.

Most patients ignored it, and Dr. Horner was a little surprised at just how funny the young man found it.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be."

"You look like a spaceman."

"You've been watching too many films."

"Not much else I can do."

With grown patients, Horner usually remained professional and fairly stoic but seeing the young man half his age, who'd been through more in the last few years than so many of his other patients, he figured he could be a little more casual.

"Here."

Jesse's brows drew together when Dr. Horner pulled the head mirror off, and he remained still as the man was careful in putting it over his ears.

"See how if you tilt your head, the light is reflected? It leaves your hands free to work."

Jesse only muttered in agreement before tilting his head forward and was forced to catch the piece as it began to fall to the bridge of his nose.

"You have a big head."

"You're a cheeky kid." Horner grinned as he took the contraption back.

"Momma always taught me to be honest."

"She did a good job." Setting the instrument aside, he pointed toward a spot on the floor and went back to his examination, voice lowering. "Look there for me."

Jesse turned his attention to the tile that had been pointed out and waited as the healed injury over his ear was looked at.

"They tell you how this one happened?"

"It was never really explained, but the inside of my helmet didn't do me any favors."

"No it didn't...does this hurt anywhere when-"

"There-" Jesse didn't flinch but his expression hardened as he continued to stare at the floor.

Horner moved his hand away, hearing the edge in Jesse's tone. "Well it's a smaller area than your last visit. That's the one injury that is going to give you the most trouble." He stepped back and leaned against the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in previously. "The instance you mentioned with memory loss isn't uncommon. You'll have moments like that, possible confusion at times, and because your injury is centralized behind the ear you may have injured the nerve to the vestibular system as well."

Jesse only regarded him silently a moment. "What's that in english?"

"Simplified, it's everything of the inner ear that controls balance. Have you noticed any problems there?"

"I get dizzy if I stand up too fast."

"That's normal for anyone."

"Do things like that come and go? Should I have noticed that before?"

"The more you heal, the better we'll be able to keep track of those occurrences, but because you have been so immobile and sleeping so much, it will take a while for us to be able to decide on a baseline of how frequent this is occurring or how strong."

Jesse nodded again, but he didn't like the idea of this becoming a recurring thing.

* * *

Henry wished he could have been there, he really could have when he considered it, but Jesse wasn't a child and he was sure Dr. Horner would fill him in anyway.

Jesse was grinning when he met him in the hall, that at least was an encouraging sign.

"I'm driving home."

He stuttered briefly, relief rushing through him to hear that Jesse was well enough to get behind a wheel. "Oh, you think so. I don't remember giving permission to drive my truck."

Jesse only grinned broadly, it was a nice change.

It wavered somewhat when his expression became concerned. He didn't get a chance to ask what was wrong before Henry had pulled him forward in a one armed hug around the neck.

"You're a strong kid." He murmured before releasing him and slapping a shoulder gently before Dr. Horner entered their empty area of the corridor.

"He'll be released to drive but I'd still like another individual in the vehicle for the time being."

"That's easy enough."

Jesse stood impatiently to the side as everything they'd discussed during the appointment was then shared with his brother. It would have been easier to just have him there...

Henry knew exactly what he was thinking and hid a faint grin at how it reminded him of when they'd first started in Piston Cup. Good. The kid could still benefit from learning some patience. He took his time in whatever questions he asked and in gathering his things, only holding the keys out when Jesse stood at the driver's side door of the truck with a hand on the latch.

"Jumpin' the gun a little aren't you?"

"He said I could drive, and it's only forty-five minutes from home."

He muttered something in consent and waited for the passenger door to be unlocked. While he was excited for Jesse, he also watched subtly for any sign of unease in his brother's movements.

"I don't think I've ever driven your truck..." Jesse adjusted the mirror above him before starting the vehicle.

"Please don't start messing. I've had everything set just right since I got it."

"Oh, my- seriously?" Jesse looked at him in bemusement with one hand on the gear shift. He put a foot on the break and took his hand off the wheel to point to one of the air vents. "Even-"

"Don't mess with it. Just drive us home."

"You are kidding."

"Do you kid about your Hornet?"

"You mean my priceless scrap?"

He huffed in amusement, a little surprised, but more interested in keeping the topic away from Jesse rearranging the inside of his truck. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"The Fabulous Scrap Pile, yeah."

He rolled his eyes, watching out his window as Jesse did a three point turn out of the lot. The wheel spun through Jesse's hands as he loosened his grip coming out of the turn, just like any time he'd ever driven in his life, and Henry didn't notice a single ounce of uncertainty or moment of hesitation in Jesse's movements as he worked up through the gears and gained speed upon reaching the highway.

The relaxed set of Jesse's shoulders was telling, though, and within ten minutes of being on the road he had an arm draped over the wheel as if he'd just taken a Piston Cup. Henry could point it out to him, mention how it was obvious that being behind the wheel again really meant something to him, that to see him so at ease that late February morning, after six months of hell really meant something.

Or he could keep it to himself. He could keep it to himself the way he'd kept little moments he'd observed in Ruth to himself, moments of the twins to himself. Some of his fondest memories were the ones he'd never shared with anyone. The way the sun had been setting behind his father when he'd played catch with him for the last time, the smell of the kitchen and listening to his mother hum along to the radio that Christmas, Ruth's startled and guilty expression when she'd slapped Jesse with that wooden spoon, and now Jesse's look of total ease and contentment once he'd rolled the window down and could feel the wind in his hair.

The corner of his mouth turned up faintly, watching Jesse a moment longer before getting comfortable for the drive home.

* * *

"Could sell it."

Henry glanced sidelong toward Jesse as they stood together in the barn. "Was that a poor attempt at a joke?"

"People pay a lot of money for really strange things, you know."

"I'm aware."

"You know someday, Piston Cup will have a museum and this could be the main attraction."

"Something that _looks_ like it might have been the #51 Hudson Hornet."

"Yeah. We'll still be living off what they paid us."

Henry only shook his head and shoved Jesse's shoulder lightly. "Shut up and get to work..."

They'd collected an assortment of tools from the garage and set up a make shift bay in the empty space of the barn. Henry rolled an old tool chest against the wall and paused, turning toward his brother as a thought occurred to him and he pointed at him threateningly.

"You might be able to work on this while I'm not around but the only thing you need to be working under is _the hood._ "

Jesse had just gotten the hinge of the door undone and it clattered to the wooden floor with a hollow sound. "Come on, Henry, when would-" He cut himself off at the look he was being given. "Yeah, ok. No working under the car alone."

Together they worked on getting the hood off and for the first time really got a look at the damage to the motor.

Henry whistled lowly, he knew that engine better than anyone.

He didn't recognize it.

Jesse cursed lowly, rubbing his forehead with a forearm before leaning heavily in to his hands on one of the few smooth areas of the vehicle.

"You're sure you don't want-"

"Have you seen the '55 model? It doesn't look anything like this."

Henry blinked a few times before glancing at the work they'd done so far. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

"You know what I mean."

"One way or another..." Henry pulled what he assumed was once an air filter out from between belts it had no right being near. "I need to get a hold of Hudson Motors."

It was still early, and Henry had left him in the barn to see if he could get through to someone even that afternoon. They'd heard from the corporation after Jesse's accident, and of course had been in correspondence in the years previous, but with the step in of team sponsors in early 1954, Hudson Motor Car Company had taken a back seat in any dealings Jesse had with Piston Cup. They'd supported the team wholeheartedly, but couldn't do so in the same capacity as they had up until 1953.

They were facing their own round of problems.

Jesse looked up in surprise when Henry stalked back out to the barn. "Couldn't get through?"

"Oh, I got through."

"What's got you so...aren't they going to work with us?"

"John Hudson Sr. passed away last month."

Jesse watched him from where he sat on an overturned bucket, setting his tools aside and rubbing his hands together. "That's...that's too bad- we'll have to send something..."

John Hudson Sr. had handed him a car when the head of the marketing department thought it was a joke. He owed a lot to that man.

"They should've told us, we should've-"

"You still can't travel that far, Jesse. From what I was just told it was a private memorial service anyway."

He nodded, chewing at his lower lip before looking up again. "How's the younger-"

"Barely keeping above water."

"What can we-"

"He's making sure we get the parts, but it may only be the one time."

Jesse raised a brow. How was being granted parts a problem? "Is he money hungry? Does he think we're desperate?"

"No. He's giving us his father's '51 Hornet, everything will be a cinch once we have it here...but Jesse-...Hudson's new model is so different because it's not solely Hudson."

He didn't mean... "No..."

Henry only nodded. It might not affect them personally, but they could relate.

"They merged...with who?"

"Three companies, Hudson, Nash Motors, and Kelvinator Corporation have moved to Wisconsin."

"To _Wisconsin_? They're not even in Detroit anymore- _Nash_? Kelvinator is an appliance company!"

"We're all dealing with headaches."

"Some of us literally..."

Henry grinned faintly before he shook his head. "John was more than happy to supply anything we needed. They may have merged but he wants to do what he can to get the car ready. He was glad to hear you're doing well."

Jesse looked over what little they had accomplished with the Hornet so far. "How's _he_ doing?"

"As good as can be expected. I didn't speak to him long but could tell this merger was the last thing he wanted to do. He and his old man had been holding out as long as possible from the sounds of it."

"What's their new title?" Jesse glanced up at him from the work he'd returned to, cleaning up anything he could get his hands on.

"American Motors Corporation."


	50. Twin Hornets

"Hey. Hollywood, wake up."

When Jesse didn't move from his spot on the couch, Henry left where he stood in the doorway of the kitchen to stand in front of the coffee table.

"Jesse."

He tilted his head as he waited for a reply. When Jesse had called it a night the evening before but had only made it to the couch, he'd been concerned and asked what the problem was. He wasn't sure if Jesse's response of just not wanting to go upstairs had been due to pain and not wanting to manage those steps, or if there was some other aversion to leaving the first floor of the house. It could have just been plain laziness.

He'd repeatedly told Henry he was alright on his own and that he didn't have to stay with him all day and night anymore, but the idea of Jesse alone in the house that had once been so lively just didn't sit well with him. It had made him uneasy since the night of Ruth's passing.

Ruth had been the one who liked to sit quietly for hours, reading, or hand sewing or working on whatever project she had at hand. Jesse was the loud one, who thrived in the chaotic atmosphere of the track, and if it wasn't the track, then it was the rowdy bunch that spent their time on the back porch and traipsed in and out of the house on a whim.

Except lately they hadn't been able to come around as often. With whatever was going on in Piston Cup, they were tied up, with little free time to show up and spend an evening at the homestead.

Henry just didn't like Jesse being alone.

He shook himself free of his musings and looked down to see that Jesse still hadn't moved much. He reached out idly to flick his ear. "Wake up."

"Hmm?" Jesse finally shifted and rubbed at his ear while looking up blearily. "What time 's it?"

"About eight." He replied while clearing off the coffee table. "The car's gunna be here in an hour, though, so you need to get up."

Jesse sat on the edge of the couch, working through the haze of sleep while watching his brother leave the room. He yawned and stretched before folding the blanket he'd used and threw it over the back of the couch. He answered Henry's questions as he went upstairs.

"What's today?"

"Friday."

"What's the date?"

"March twenty-fifth."

"When's the meeting?"

"Was two weeks ago...Monday the fourteenth."

Henry watched until he disappeared around the corner at the top of the steps before going back to the kitchen. They'd started testing his memory a few weeks after Jesse had been released to drive, thinking that maybe little things such as the date and smaller reminders would keep him away from whatever it was that had happened the afternoon he forgot the others had been to the house.

Jesse still didn't remember it, and had explained to Henry that the only way he could put it in to words was that it was like he wasn't there. It's hard to remember something you weren't present for, and it was unsettling for everyone involved, to know that Jesse couldn't piece that day together. The accident made more sense, he'd been injured, and who would _want_ to remember something like that? He'd been part of the conversation that day at the house, though, he was the sole reason they'd even been there, yet he had no recollection of that afternoon.

Henry waited on the back porch. Scuffing his shoe across the wooden planks, he glanced down and noted vaguely that the porch could use a decent sweeping. Not to mention the amount of work that needed done outside already. They'd need to decide if they were even attempting to get the garden planted that spring. He knew Jesse was more focused on getting the car back in shape, and getting the ground ready and seeds started just didn't seem to be a priority at the moment. They'd handed off most of the garden's bounty the previous fall anyway. Henry had grown tired of trying to find different ways to use the massive amount of vegetables and Jesse hadn't had an appetite while recuperating.

He glanced at his watch for the time and then over his shoulder as the screen door slapped shut.

"Thought I might miss him." Jesse muttered, turning the collar of his jacket down as he looked out toward the barn.

Henry only hummed lowly, glancing at his watch again before speaking. "No. You got about ten minutes."

He watched in silence as Jesse rounded the table and sat in his usual corner, kicking his chair back on to two legs with an arm on the railing as they waited. The last of the bruising around his eye had finally faded to nothing and aside from the fact that he still seemed a little pale at times, the everyday onlooker would never know what he'd been through.

No one would ever know what _they'd_ been through. Sure they had close friends who had offered support and well wishes, but no one would ever know the full depths of despair on those nights in Jesse's hospital room. To see the kid looking like he'd never been in an accident was a sight Henry never thought he'd see. He wanted to say something, because they'd never fully discussed everything that had happened, going all the way back to Ruth's death, their parent's deaths, to really have the heartfelt conversation they should have had months ago. Every time he tried, though, the contented calm in Jesse's eyes crushed his voice. The kid had danced with death and come out unscathed, for the most part, and while he still had his bad days, Henry couldn't bring himself to bring him down when he was finally beginning to see some of the old Jesse. The one who'd been excited to get in to Piston Cup, who knew there was work to be done and was willing to put in his time.

He heaved a quiet sigh, having a discussion like that while awaiting company wasn't the best idea, but at least getting the idea out for later...

"Jesse, I-"

"He's here." Jesse was up from the table in an instant, and down the steps as two vehicles pulled up the drive.

Henry only scratched at his brow with his thumb, staring at a spot in the yard a moment before following. "Yeah..."

By the time he caught up with Jesse, a silver 1951 Hornet was parked beside a cab. He assumed it was to take Hudson to an airport once he left the Hornet with them.

Pleasantries were exchanged and they shook hands before John Hudson Jr. explained that he'd do whatever he could to help them get the car back in shape.

"Working the new safety features in might be tricky, they won't be modeled for a '51."

Henry shifted his weight to one side with his arms crossed, all three of them looking at the vehicle as he spoke. "It feels like starting over. We have so many things to relearn after the meeting they had two weeks ago."

"No one wants to see that happen again."

"Shouldn't have happened in the first place." Jesse muttered darkly, though his attention was more on the vehicle in front of him, already eyeing whatever could be swapped out on his car. The windshield, a headlight...front axle...

While Jesse studied the car, John explained to Henry what had led up to the merger Hudson had undergone and the move to Wisconsin.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet may have been dominating on the track, and while that had caused production to skyrocket in the first three years he'd raced, the Hornet model had already begun to decline in the end of '53. John shook his head, he hadn't been thrilled with the changes in design that had taken place, because what had been changed wasn't their biggest concern.

"Ford, Chevy, you name it, they'd had the upper hand on us when it came to styling. They could change the look of their models on a yearly basis without the alterations a Hornet would need."

They were all aware that Hudson Hornets were known for their step down chassis, where the footwells were recessed between the car's chassis rails, rather than sitting above the frame. It was what gave the Hornet such a low center of gravity and made it handle so smoothly on a track.

It also made it impossible to upgrade the model, no one had wanted to spend the money on redesigning the frame every year.

"We dug our own grave." John shrugged his shoulder, his coat over one arm. Michigan was nothing like Georgia.

"Nash bought you out." Jesse glanced up. They hadn't mentioned anything to Lou yet, but it wasn't like it was a secret either.

"Nash and Kelvinator. The name will still be used, but for all intents and purposes, Hudson Motor Car Company is finished."

Jesse felt a knot form in his stomach as he offered a few words of sympathy, unsure how else to react to news like that. Hearing they'd just slap the name on a vehicle that wasn't _actually_ a Hudson wasn't what he wanted to hear. It was a hollow acknowledgment to a company that had helped him make a name for himself, only to silently disappear. Maybe years down the road it would be mentioned now and then. _What ever happened to that car company? You know that one we heard so much about in the beginning of Piston Cup? Hudson?_

He shook his head when he realized he was being spoken to. "I- sorry?"

"Could I see the car?"

"Oh, sure-" He turned toward the heavy barn door behind them and reached for the handle.

"If not, I underst-"

Jesse hummed and shook his head, more than a little proud of himself when there was no pull or sharp pain in his shoulders as he heaved the door open and stepped inside. "No, if there's anyone who should see it, it's you."

Henry glanced between the two, and had to agree with the former company vice president when he whistled and looked toward Jesse in surprise.

"Kid, you are lucky to be alive."

"That's what they've been telling me."

They could have spent the afternoon going over the damage and discussing where to start with repairs, but there was a cab waiting and John had a flight back to Michigan.

He stood on the opposite side of the cab with the door open, looking at the silver Hornet that would soon be used for parts. "You know it's fitting..."

"What's that?" Henry shielded his eyes against the late morning sun as Jesse closed up the barn door again.

"Dad really loved that car, and he'd really loved Piston Cup once you two were out there. It's fitting that his car can be part of that now."

If Hudson Motor Car Company was going to be a thing of the past, at least there was still a legacy to keep the name alive.

Neither Henry or Jesse could think of anything worth uttering in reply, and when the other seemed to realize this, he only nodded with a grin and wished them well with their upcoming project.

Jesse bit the inside of his cheek as the cab left, only looking toward Henry once it was headed down the road. "Hudson's done."

"They are..."

"He seemed-"

Henry shoved the key to the silver Hornet in his pocket and turned to inspect their new project.

Neither of them were comfortable enough to admit they'd been given a car by a broken man.

They had work to do, there wasn't time to think about it.

* * *

"I'm amazed there are so many new faces, considering..."

"Considering what?" Emily nearly snapped at her brother. She'd had more than enough of his commentary throughout everything that had been taking place since the meeting at the beginning of the month.

"I would just assume green drivers would be concerned after seeing a veteran like Hudson wreck the way he did."

"Wrecks happen to anyone, you've always been the one to say that."

She couldn't put her finger on why, but Emily had been feeling isolated through the process Piston Cup had been going through in the preseason preparations. She'd paid close attention during the meeting two weeks ago but continuously had to return to her own notes to keep everything straight. On top of all the new regulations, questions and concerns still being addressed, she was supposed to be organizing information for upcoming teams that would be joining the sport and racing for the first time in only a few months.

She really needed another person helping her.

"Still." Alex replied, whether she was listening or not. "I just assumed rookies would be jumpy."

"Rookies are young and naive."

"'Says the twenty-year old."

Emily only pursed her lips and continued laying out forms that would go in to packets for the new drivers joining that season. Copies of bylaws, proposed regulations that were still being hashed out, a statement concerning the incident of the previous year and new safety requirements all stared at her in silence.

She wanted to fling them off the desk. If she signed her name one more time that day for incoming or outgoing mail, she was going to scream.

Alex eyed her quietly and raised a brow. "You seem a little tense."

"A little?"

"Just making an observation."

"You could maybe help."

"I have to go."

"Of course you do."

"I wanted to talk to a few sponsors before the season gets started."

Emily rolled her eyes, what would he have to talk to sponsors about? Unless he was just being nosy?

She shouted after him as he left her office, leaving her alone with her stacks of paperwork again.

"And I'm twenty-one, thank you very much."

* * *

Jesse had been hesitant to start on their work with the car and had allowed the intact Hornet to sit undisturbed in the driveway for days. It was Henry that had finally said they needed to get to work.

"I just feel like I'm taking something away from them..."

"Jesse, he gave you the car. He knows exactly what you intend to do with it."

Jesse had stared at the pristine front end and chrome grill. It would have been his car's twin before the wreck. If it were red, he might have just kept it and had the decals and lettering slapped on.

Except it was silver, and not _his_.

He didn't react when Henry gave his shoulder a rough pat. "C'mon. Help me get that windshield."

They worked endlessly. Henry had closed the garage again, because it wasn't a necessity to their finances and it allowed them to work uninterrupted.

The others were able to stop by a little more often, and would give updates to what was happening in the world of Piston Cup while watching them work.

"The meeting was a nightmare." Lou started one afternoon.

"Necessary, though." Junior sat on the stack of _dirt track racer_ tires in the corner. "At least we don't have to do the physicals again."

Jesse glanced up from where he sat on the wooden floor of the barn, helping his brother work on getting the tangled mess of a grill off his car. "They do away with that?"

"No, but they're keeping our records of our previous physicals on file."

Jesse only nodded, distracted by the tool he heard fall through to the floor and smirking at Henry's hissed comment. He reached as far as he could, muttering that he'd get it and handed the wrench back as he answered River's question.

"How'd your last visit go?"

"I'm driving, everything looked good."

"Think you'll be ready for this-" Junior cut himself off at the look Henry gave him over his shoulder. "-next season...?"

The season started in less than two months, there was no way Jesse would be ready.

"Next season." Jesse nodded and sniffed when the dirt they kicked up from the floor became too much. "Start slow, like running your shine."

Junior gaped when the others laughed and sputtered in surprise. "You think I'll let you after a comment like that?"

"Yeah, you'll need the speed."

"He's got you there, Moon."

"Like that hunk of junk can-"

"Just wait." Jesse raised a brow, still working on the grill. "By June I'll be running circles 'round all of you again."


	51. A Long Way To Go

**AN: Have finally had the chance to do some writing. Not sure how frequent updates will be, but with the short story Talladega, I wanted to get working on this again.**

* * *

As they neared the end of April, Henry forced them to take a break. He could see Jesse pushing himself to the limit on a daily basis and knew that if he didn't take care of himself, it wouldn't matter what shape the Hornet was in. He wouldn't allow him to race if he knew Jesse couldn't physically handle it.

He wished he'd just sit out for a while, they both knew there was no way Jesse would be driving the 1955 season, but Henry had cautioned more than once that maybe they should aim more towards the 19 _57_ season. It would give Jesse more than enough time to recuperate, allow them both to regain some confidence and make sure they were in peak form when they went back on to the track.

Unsurprisingly, Jesse hadn't been thrilled with the idea. He didn't need immediate work, but he couldn't just sit around the homestead for over a year either. Listening to the other three talk of the happenings in Piston Cup put him on edge. He was being handed second hand information that was days or weeks old by the time it got to him. Not being able to be in the thick of the current administrative proceedings or voice his opinion on different possible changes made him irritable, and because he couldn't debate it with others it would turn in to a venting session whenever Lou, River or Junior shared those possible changes.

They'd begun to share less and less, not because they disagreed with Jesse, but when they were all helpless over a situation it didn't help to stir the pot. Calm waters are easier to handle than the rapids...

For once they were able to spend an afternoon with the Hudson brothers, taking up their usual seats at the table on the back porch while the brothers stood in the yard. They had filled them both in on the fact that things finally seemed to be settling down. The date of the opening race had been confirmed, only a few new rookies would be joining that year and they all finally had some time to themselves after the whirlwind fall and winter months that had usually been so quiet in the years before.

"Not even present, and you still cause trouble, Hud." River grinned faintly as he took the jar of shine Junior passed across the table. "All winter that's all we heard about. _How will Piston Cup address this? How will you keep everyone safe? What will be done differently in the future?_ "

Jesse grunted faintly as he reached across with a gloved hand to catch the baseball that had been flung in his direction. It had been suggested by Dr. Horner to get some exercise in to strengthen his right arm and the muscles of the torso. It was simple enough in theory.

Except Dr. Horner didn't realize Henry still had an arm like a cannon.

"Break my fingers, Henry, I think this was just supposed to be catch..."

His brother only shrugged a shoulder before catching the ball that was thrown back.

Jesse glanced up and replied to River's comment. "When your middle name's trouble I guess it should just be expected."

They all knew his middle name was certainly _not_ trouble, but no one commented as he caught the ball thrown again.

Henry lifted his glove and gestured skyward. "Loft it, Jesse. High."

While Jesse did as instructed, feeling the pull in his shoulder and back, Junior leaned back in his seat as it struck him sudden]ly.

"That's why-"

"Hmm?"

He looked toward Louise and gestured to the two in the yard. "I'd forgotten, was a couple years behind him, but Smokey was a hell of a ball player in school."

"It's why Jesse is going to need to ice that hand." River smirked.

"Yeah, you might wanna get that ice ready." Jesse glanced up with a knowing look, just close enough to hear their conversation.

"I'm assuming he was a pitcher."

"Mmhmm. Last two years he was there they went undefeated."

Lou raised a brow at them before looking back to the boys in the yard. It was obvious Jesse was burned out, with the last toss he caught he removed the glove and looked his left hand over before tossing the ball back to Henry as he joined him.

"How fast you ever pitch?" Louise asked loud enough from where she sat.

Jesse took everything to return to where they'd been kept the barn. He glanced up at Louise, then toward Henry, before looking the old leather gloves over. They'd originally been his father's and Henry's, and one very small glove had been left on the shelf that hadn't moved since the day Henry Sr. had left Georgia.

"Never got anything real accurate." Henry replied, adjusting his hat while looking up at the group from where he stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Jesse flexing his fingers.

"Can you still throw?"

He was about to admit that he couldn't. Age and time had taken their toll, despite the fact that he wasn't even yet thirty. He stopped though, when Jesse silently held out his glove and ball again. He was going to shake his head but Jesse was adamant and glanced knowingly at the items in his hand before meeting his brother's eyes again.

Henry pinched the back of his neck, sighing lowly as he relented.

"I mean-" Junior started. "You should be fairly warmed up by now."

"I'll say." Jesse muttered.

"Alright, fine." Turning the baseball in his hand, he studied the red stitching before looking back up at the others. "What am I throwing at?"

Jesse gestured toward the barn, smirking faintly as he started up the steps. "Can you hit the broad side of a barn?"

"Can I hit the broad side of a barn." He repeated, eyeing Jesse coolly. Studying the ball in his hand again he continued. "You're lucky you're still healing kid."

Jesse only grinned from where he sat on the railing and gestured to the barn silently.

Watching his brother carefully, Jesse wondered if that was the expression he wore before a race. It was just pitching a ball, there couldn't be that much thought behind it, but Henry looked from the barn to his glove and tossed the ball experimentally before turning it in his hand again. In that moment Jesse suddenly remembered going to his games with Ruth and their mother because Henry was Thomasville's starting pitcher and very rarely ever took the bench. Speed and athleticism had been as effortless to him as racing was to Jesse.

He could tell the others were waiting, afraid to say anything and break Henry's concentration, and Jesse could feel himself grinning before his brother ever released the ball.

With a harsh _thunk_ , the baseball struck one of the old weathered boards and fell in to the grass. Even from where he stood, Jesse knew it had left a noticeable indentation on the barn wood.

The others of course had wanted to see for themselves and Jesse waited at the table for them to return, listening as Junior explained that the ball must have hit an old knot in the wood and had even put a decent crack through the board.

"I guess that answers your question."

* * *

"When are you going back in to the offices?"

"I dunno." Jesse muttered, leaning heavily against the passenger side door as they drove back from the garage. With the window down, he tilted his head just enough to let the late spring breeze ruffle his hair before scratching at the back of his head irritably. "End of May, June? What do you think?"

"I still think you should wait."

"This is just to get a schedule. I'm not walking back in there with expectations of getting the paperwork sorted out, just to see what's going on."

"You're being nosy."

"Mmm, maybe."

They'd needed some very specific tools from the garage and Jesse hadn't wanted to sit around at the house on his own, even for the half hour it might have taken to get in to town and back. Their short break in working on the Hornet had reminded him how exhausted he was though, and the sudden lack of activity had left him yawning in the passenger seat of the truck.

"You alright?"

"Just tired."

"We can take a break. You could get some sleep in during the hottest part of the day. I'll get those lights rigged up and we can work in the barn later tonight."

Jesse's first thought was to protest, but he could feel a headache waiting to break through. A few hours would hold off any possible discomfort, especially if he took a pain killer as a precautionary measure beforehand.

"That'll work."

"I'll drop you off, then. There're some things I can get done in the mean time."

Jesse left the back door open, only latching the little hook on the screen door before wandering in to the living room. He'd never admit it to anyone but there were times when having the air conditioner was nice. His room got sun through the windows all day long, making it an oven in late summer. Lying on the couch with the air on made for a much more comfortable, and much needed, few hours of rest.

* * *

The sand was bright, bright enough that even with his sunglasses it was difficult to keep from squinting. The heat was intense, and he could feel a bead of sweat run down from his temple while the engine of the Hornet roared. He flew around the turn, foot on the clutch and waiting to put it back in gear as he came out of it on the far end. There were no crowds, no cameras, no competitors, just him, the kid who'd risked it all for a chance to prove himself worthy enough of sitting behind the wheel. The kid who'd jokingly been told he had oil in veins and grease in his joints.

His heart soared while flying over small dunes and his stomach dropped in exhilaration as the back end fishtailed, tires digging through the soft sand as he came back another lap.

It was just him, blinding sun, soft sand, and crystal blue water that mirrored a navy blue Hornet.

And Ruth.

She was sitting up straight in the passengers seat, one leg curled under her comfortably and she laughed in excitement as they came down from an uneven dune. She put a hand out her window and leaned that direction to see the sun above them before putting her attention in front of them again.

In the straightaway near the water, she marveled at how blue it was, pointing out that the white crest of the waves stood out against the water the same way the white stood out against the navy blue of the Hornet's paint job. She was beautiful and radiant, and laughed without fear of needing to catch her breath, eyes shining with excitement as she watched out the windshield.

Jesse chanced a look away from the beach in front of him, glancing in her direction and taking a moment to appreciate seeing her so happy, so _whole_. Cutting his attention between her and the sand, he could feel his cheeks begin to hurt with how wide his smile must have been, mirroring his twin the same way they had countless times growing up.

She was there, dark hair loose and curling over her shoulders, in her favorite maroon flowered dress, sitting barefoot in the Hornet with him. She wasn't pale, she wasn't in pain, she wasn't fatigued, she was happy and with him. The way it should have been.

He looked away from the sand one more time, glancing in her direction to say something but her eyes had widened, catching him off guard as she threw a hand toward the dashboard in front of her, bracing herself.

"Jesse, _watch out_!"

He woke with a gasp, knowing exactly what came next. He was sitting up straight from where he'd been napping on the couch all afternoon...

Breathing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair and realized it was well past evening and the voice at his side finally grounded him firmly in reality.

"Are you alright-..."

He glanced up at Henry briefly before pushing himself to get up. "Yeah...yeah, just a nightmare..." He brushed his hand over the back of his neck and glanced at the wall clock. "Ruth was there..."

Henry only watched him a moment, the car lights of a vehicle driving down the road out front passing over his face.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Jesse asked as he went to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for a glass.

"You're burnt out, Hud. We can wait a few days before we start again."

Jesse's eyes narrowed briefly at the name, maybe he was having a memory laps but he didn't think that was a nickname Henry used for him very often.

He wasn't sure what it meant, maybe it didn't mean anything. He was too tired to have that particular conversation at that time and only nodded, refilling his glass with water.

"You staying or goin' home?"

"What do you want me to do?"

Jesse shrugged, gesturing in to the house. "I'm just going back to bed. You can take your old room...or the couch. Wherever..."

"My room."

They both knew he still had enough clothing and belongings there that he could remain as long as he wanted. Henry had always lived between two houses, the homestead, and the one he'd purchased at twenty-four when his garage had taken off.

They walked silently up the stairs, muttering goodnights in the landing, and Henry paused and narrowed his eyes in concern when Jesse opened the door to Ruth's room and stepped inside quickly.

The maroon sundress still hung in the corner of the closet and Jesse pulled the material toward the light of the room to look it over silently. There was nothing wrong with it, it was still in just as good of shape as Ruth had ever left it. With a low sigh, he let the fabric go and pushed the hanger back against the other clothing stored away.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked as he flipped the switch and exited the room.

"I'm not really sure..."

He titled his head in sympathy, they had all done similar things when their mother had passed. Without a word, he reached out and gripped Jesse's shoulder, pulling him close and only releasing him a few moments later.

"Goodnight, Hollywood."

"Goodnight."


	52. Baby Steps

**AN: It's been a while! Life has punched me in the faaaaaaace. Ugh. Things are looking good, though, so hopefully I can get more consistent with updating this again.**

* * *

 **April 1955**

Emily looked up from the stacks of forms she was organizing in preparation for the final meeting before the first race and regarded her brother silently before finally giving in and speaking.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"The season opening dinner. What was the date again?"

She looked at the large calendar on her desk while sliding folders in to the drawer beside her. "The eighteenth. Next Friday."

It wasn't as large as the end of the season banquets and Emily had attempted to explain to Alex repeatedly that it wasn't even an official Piston Cup event. It was a small formality that a few individuals had been interested in putting together to acknowledge the start of another year. Anything else would have been a little callous in light of the events of the previous season.

It was more so put on by sponsors and employees than anything else. She didn't think her father was planning to be in attendance.

"Are you going?"

Emily looked up again, straightening a few pages that refused to cooperate. "What?"

"Are you going to the dinner?" Alex repeated with forced patience. He looked over her desk with arms crossed before meeting her gaze finally. "Or are you going to sit around the offices because your boyfriend won't be there?"

She leaned back slightly in offense, startled by his comment. "Excuse me?"

"You've been moping around the offices since last summer."

Emily sat up straighter, pursing her lips and glaring at the work in front of her before looking back up at him. Her tone was laced with feigned sweetness when she spoke, months of frustration barely held in check. "I've been tasked with keeping this headache under control. While you wander the offices, day in and day out because you have nothing better to do with your time, I'm making sure this doesn't all fall apart."

"Fall apart..." He muttered in disbelief.

"You sit around waiting for these new regulations to be announced but who is the one making sure they're being communicated to the drivers? The teams? The car companies? Who is the one questioned when someone needs referencing? When the same question has been asked a dozen times because for some reason, grown adults can't do their own research or even think for themselves on how to answer the question on their own?"

Alex didn't reply. He only continued to stand in front of her desk and shrugged his shoulders, watching her expectantly.

"If that's what you consider moping, then yes, Alexander. That's exactly what I'm doing."

* * *

"You know you're at fault for this..."

Silence reigned over the makeshift garage bay after Jesse's statement and he looked over his shoulder with a flash of irritation while putting some of the tools away. The few makeshift bulbs they'd wired up only provided so much light in the evenings and it made it difficult to get any work done after a certain time. Harsh shadows fell through the exposed framework of the Hornet, the vehicle nearly stripped to the skeleton to then piece back together. Parts had been strategically placed throughout the space to keep track of, making the barn floor a maze to sort through. Jesse and Henry had both tripped countless times already and their shins were paying the price for not always paying attention to where they were walking.

The roof of the Hornet had been hammered back in to a somewhat recognizable shape, otherwise, there wasn't much of the vehicle to compare to the images in the newspaper clippings back on the kitchen table in the house.

"Don't give me that look, this was a fifty-fifty deal, pal."

Jesse still received silence in answer. Throwing the last tool in the chest, he turned around and eyed the Hornet sarcastically. "At least you can get put back together fairly easily...and painlessly."

"You have finally lost your mind."

Jesse jumped, not having expected to get any kind of response. It didn't matter if it was Henry standing in the doorway to the barn.

"He's being unreasonable."

"Uh-huh..." Henry inclined his head while looking between Jesse and the Hornet. "Do I need to separate the two of you?"

"Do you think it would help."

"Might help you. You're the one with bleeding knuckles, cuts and bruises."

Jesse was pushing it, and he didn't like it. Working on a car usually ended up in nicks and cuts but the kid had just finally been cleared by Dr. Horner to return to usual activities and exercise. He'd be more comfortable if Jesse would just _slow down._

Jesse flexed his fingers and looked over the cuts that had stopped bleeding some hours before. He muttered a soft agreement before putting his attention back on the car.

The work was going surprisingly quickly, but with little else to do they had been able to focus a good majority of their time on getting the Hornet back up to standard. It would only be a few more days, maybe a week before they could try to get it started.

Henry remembered what he had returned to the barn for in the first place and emptied his pockets of the few smaller tools he'd taken in to the house with him before herding Jesse toward the door.

"Day's over. We'll pick it back up tomorrow."

He'd expected Jesse to argue with him but was pleased when he only turned off the lights and followed in to the natural light of the evening.

Once cleaned up and having gotten something to eat, Jesse stood on the back porch, leaning his shoulder against the beam at the top of the steps. He glanced vaguely to the side when the screen door closed and Henry joined him.

"Sometimes-..." He started, unsure if he should continue or not, half afraid his comment would upset his brother.

"Sometimes..." Henry echoed, encouraging him as he watched his profile in the fading light of the evening.

"I feel like I'll see her." Jesse tilted his head until it was nearly resting against the beam beside him, staring across the property. "Or I _expect_ to see her." He clarified and gestured to the garden that still needed planting. "Whether it's outside...or sometimes when I come downstairs in the morning I just expect she'll be standing there in front of the coffee maker..."

Jesse stared at the untilled ground of the garden, working his jaw and biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from getting too emotional.

Henry wasn't oblivious, though, and even under the dim lighting of the porch it was easy to see the shine in his brother's eyes.

"Jesse."

"Grief is really a selfish thing." He whispered miserably, voice cracking as he straightened his posture suddenly.

Ruth wasn't in any more pain, why would he want to see her suffer just so that _he_ could have her back with him? Why was it so hard to be the one left behind, knowing that she was free of the illness and limitations that had plagued her for so long.

But someday, someday there would come a time when he would forget what she sounded like, what _Jesse Aaron_ sounded like depending on her mood. He'd forget what she looked like sitting on the couch helping him learn the Piston Cup rule book, or the flush in her cheeks when she'd tried so hard to get him to ice-skate with her in New York City. He'd forget the familiar feel of her leaning against his shoulder or how she'd playfully pat his cheek when trying to make a point. Someday he'd forget her best moments and only remember the worst...

He just wanted her back, and he felt awful for it.

Why had he healed so well when she hadn't?

Henry was silent, blinking rapidly a few times before reaching across and pinching the back of his brother's neck in a silent show of comfort.

* * *

"Alright, Jesse. Try 'er now."

They both waited with bated breath and muttered quiet encouragement as Jesse turned the key in the ignition, listening as the engine attempted to turn over. Henry watched with his hands braced on the newly replaced grill before shaking his head and motioning for Jesse to stop.

The entire body of the Hornet had been removed, and Jesse felt like he was looking at the vehicle version of one of those anatomy books from high school as he stood to the side and allowed Henry to make a few small adjustments. Belts, hoses and the exhaust system should be hidden away in the same way muscle and ligaments were. It was unnatural.

What parts of the side panels and body that could be repaired had been sent to a body shop, along with whatever parts from their spare car to be repainted. Once they got the Hornet running, they'd detail the interior and be able to get it back on the road. It hadn't taken nearly as long as Jesse had anticipated.

He kicked at the replaced driver's side tire while Henry worked, thinking over what the others had told him about some event before the start of the season. It wasn't Piston Cup _officially_ , but it was just expected that most in the circuit would attend.

Jesse had turned the idea down, much like when he'd been ill in the spring of '53, he'd rather make sure his health was under control and his car back up to speed. He didn't need prying eyes or a laundry list of questions when he had more important things to worry about than a few hours in a banquet hall.

He was pulled from his musings when Henry got out of the car, or at least left the driver's seat because there wasn't a door. Jesse watched in silence as he left the barn, returning moments later with a jar of moonshine.

His brows lowered in bemusement until he realized what his brother was doing.

"Get me a funnel."

Jesse grabbed one from the shelf and handed it to him. "You think that'll work."

"Should burn off any debris we haven't been able to get to." Henry replied while emptying the jar.

He had a point, and Jesse took the key from him before trying to start it again.

He closed his eyes, willing the Hornet to start and he could hear Henry speaking.

"C'mon...c'mon. Give it some gas, Jesse."

Jesse opened his eyes, vaguely noting that the tachometer needed some tweaking. He was definitely not running at 4000 rpm. He let up on the gas a bit and tried again, listening as it coughed and sputtered, followed by a pretty intense _bang_ before leveling out.

The idle was rough, and the steering wheel beneath his hand shook with a strange, nearly violent vibration, but the car was _running._

Jesse grinned widely and a laugh escaped him as he tested the gas again, listening to the engine respond while looking through the clear windshield to see his brother and crew chief smiling back.

There was still so much to work on. The rear windshield needed replaced, a few places in the frame reinforced before the body panels were returned. Fine tuning would need to be done to the timing belts, and every filter would be replaced before Jesse would even take it from the barn.

They were back at square one as far as training and the vehicle went, but if Jesse could be cleared by doctors in less than ten months, then his car could do the same. As Henry was occupied with studying the engine, Jesse ran a hand over the steering wheel and read over the Hudson emblem with a fond look.

"Welcome back."


	53. Still Got It

"Shouldn't it have taken longer?" Junior kicked his chair back and they all looked toward Jesse expectantly as they sat together on the back porch. The temperatures had finally become comfortable enough, nearing the end of April, that they had resumed their usual routine of gathering at the Hudson homestead to spend their afternoons together.

"I'm just glad it hasn't." Jesse replied while looking in the direction of the barn. The Hornet wasn't completely finished, they were still waiting on the body shop to finish and return repaired and repainted body panels. He'd been hard-pressed to get a decent enough section for them to use as a color reference. He wasn't going to accept anything other than the 1950 J-36 Legion Blue, and the color code had no longer been in production after the merger. Why his 1951 Hornet had a 1950 color code, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to allow them to just pick a blue off the shelf.

The group had only discussed the topic of the Hudson/Kelvinator/Nash merger once. Between the brothers and Louise, there were connections to two of the companies in question but because it didn't affect any of them specifically it was considered a bit of an oddity as opposed to anything else. It wouldn't affect competition on the track, Jesse had his Hornet back and that was all he would need.

"You taken it out yet?" River asked.

Jesse only shook his head, turning his attention away from the barn and back to the group. "Next week possibly, still waiting on some things."

"Perfect." Junior grinned, letting his chair fall back on to four legs. "I need another runner anyway."

* * *

"I can't believe it." Henry muttered lowly.

They stood together in the entrance to the barn, appreciating their handy work in silence. Late afternoon sunlight glinted off the chrome accents and sleek lines of the frame, making the navy blue look nearly black in areas cast in shadow. The whitewall tires contrasted handsomely against the dark paint and Jesse's only complaint was that they didn't have any decent _dirt track racers_ lying around.

Looking at it now, no one would ever know what had happened less than a year ago.

It looked like it had come right out of a show room and Jesse was nearly giddy with excitement, rocking on his toes beside his brother as they continued to look it over.

He knew there were still some adjustments to be made, but to have his vehicle back and road-worthy had lifted his spirits considerably. He tossed his keys up once before catching them again. "I'm goin' out."

"Out where."

Jesse looked over his shoulder and shrugged as he approached the driver's side door. "I dunno. Around."

Henry didn't like it, and he knew it. It had been mentioned a few times that he drive it first before handing it over to Jesse, but seeing it in such good shape after they'd finished cleaning it up, Jesse was adamant that he be the one to drive it. Call him crazy, but after what had happened last August had made him even more protective and attached to the vehicle than he had been before. That was _his_ Hornet and he would be the one to take it out the first time after the wreck.

Trying to lighten the mood, Henry crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one side. "Should I get you a helmet?"

"Lot of good it would do me." Sliding in to the driver's seat, he rolled the window down. "I'll be back in an less than an hour."

"You better."

He grinned and offered a mock salute before starting the car, his smile widening at the sound of the engine as it idled patiently and waited for him to take control.

Henry walked a short distance down the drive as the Hornet had left the barn, watching as Jesse stopped and waited for a car to pass. He vaguely noted the brake lights and the recognizable easy shifting as Jesse had pulled on to the main road and sped up to follow the vehicle in front of him. They'd spent countless hours on that car, blood, sweat and tears had gone in to every inch. More than once they'd left the barn frustrated and swearing before cooling down and setting back to work with a quiet determination. The Hornet had fought them on more than one occasion and Henry had compared it to Jesse's stay in the hospital. _If it just wasn't so ornery, this would go faster._ He'd received a nasty look in response to that particular comment.

He was afraid the kid would choke, though. He wasn't going to follow him but if Jesse wasn't back in that hour that he mentioned, he was going to go after him. Just because he was doing better physically and the car had been returned to racing standards, didn't necessarily mean Jesse was ready mentally. Henry wasn't even sure he had wanted to drive it, knowing what had happened last summer.

Even if Jesse was fine behind the wheel, it wasn't their only problem. While he hadn't been to the track in person yet, he did know that there was no available practice time. Jesse was going to be limited to their own training away from the track. There were just too many drivers all clamoring to get their time in.

They'd discuss it when he got back, for now Henry would see about ordering tires.

Meanwhile, Jesse had only driven a mile or so before bringing the Hornet to a stop near the old mine rec that had caused them all such headaches a few years ago while running shine.

"All that's missing is that new car smell." He muttered lowly, running a hand over the wheel and studying the dash. He hadn't even needed to necessarily _drive_ it that badly. He'd only wanted to really get himself reacquainted with his own car again, spend some time to just sit in the driver's seat, on his own and away from everything else.

He may not admit it to anyone, or even himself, but he'd wanted to prove he could even do it. He knew what Henry was worried about. He'd had the same thoughts, and he didn't want someone hovering while he sorted himself out.

"You think we can do it? Hmm?" He traced his finger over the Hudson emblem, muttering. He wasn't sure he was talking to the car or himself. Maybe both.

If he could come back from the brink of death, if he could get this car to look the way it did, there was no reason he couldn't get back on a track. He may withdraw from any sand tracks for a while, but he didn't think anyone would give him grief over that...

He'd been so removed from the thick of things in Piston Cup that it was going to take the next year to catch up on everything that had happened in his absence. He refused to touch a track until he was sure the issues that had caused the accident at Fireball Beach was addressed and taken care of. Maybe he could contact someone and get a hold of all of the meeting minutes from the previous fall and early spring.

The season was starting in two weeks, he'd be so behind by the time he finally got back out there...

With a huff, Jesse started the engine again. "Might as well go back and figure out how we're going to get any practicing in..."

* * *

The shine trails hadn't posed much of a problem and Jesse had stepped right back in to the routine of driving competitively. Where Henry had been afraid he would freeze up, Jesse had proven that his focus was in the right place. If there were any moments of hesitation, he hid it well and pushed through it.

The trails were a little monotonous, though, and finding different techniques and areas to get some time in had been difficult.

"They're putting in some power lines over the mountain."

Jesse had only eyed his brother expectantly. "Ok?"

"With all the ground work going on, there's gotta be different types of terrain." He'd explained with a gentle thump to Jesse's back.

It hadn't taken long for Jesse to master that, or any other venues they'd tried to challenge themselves with either.

"Are you sure you wrecked?" Lou asked facetiously one afternoon.

"I'm pretty sure."

"I dunno." River chimed in. "The car looks new."

"Off the lot, new." Junior muttered.

"Along with kickin' our tails on the old trials, I don't know if any of that actually happened."

Jesse only offered a grim smile, knowing they were teasing, but the dull ache behind his ear reminded him that the previous year had most definitely happened. He stared at the Hornet now sitting in the drive as he changed the subject. "Only problem is we can't get on a track..."

"Maybe not a Piston track..." Lou muttered thoughtfully, staring out at the Hornet as well.

* * *

Jesse stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to keep his breathing steady and willing his heart to slow down, but when the feeling wouldn't pass and the tightness in his chest only continued to worsen, he reached up and yanked the white helmet off quickly.

He'd never even gotten the chance to order a new one.

With a shaky breath, he looked it over in silence, attempting to work up the nerve to try again.

There was no damage to the outside, which had always surprised him. Months ago, he had cleaned up any sand that might have been stuck to it and it had lain on a chair in the kitchen for months until he'd rediscovered it. Turning it in his hands, he looked over the inside. The fittings didn't need adjusting from what he could tell, not that it had really done him any good in the first place. Tilting it toward the light, he was able to finally see what had caused him so many problems, and what made him so uncomfortable now. A long crack ran along the inside of the helmet, in the general area of the injury he'd sustained to his head. Unnoticeable from the outside, it ran at least four inches over where the padding was that protected his ear.

He heaved a heavy sigh. If he wanted to do this, he'd have to wear the helmet...

Jesse closed his eyes, taking a moment to steel his nerves and his brows lowered in concentration when he accidentally pressed his thumb in to the groove of the crack. Pulling the helmet back on, he was pleased at least that there was no discomfort over the old injury. He continued to stand in front of the mirror with his eyes closed, only opening them again when he'd managed more than a few moments without the feeling of claustrophobia returning.

He studied his own reflection a moment, looking himself in the eye. That cocky Piston Cup racer was there somewhere.

He just had to find him again.

He could hear Henry in the kitchen, and wasn't surprised to hear him yell up the stairs.

"Hollywood, you ready?"

Still staring at his own reflection, he answered as he removed the helmet again. "Yeah. I'm coming."

Because Jesse couldn't get scheduled in for any time at Thomasville Speedway, unable to elbow his way in even with the title of _Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ , the crew had agreed to work with him as sparring partners at the old track at Thunder Hollow. One afternoon of practicing was an entire day's worth of traveling, but it was worth it if it meant some time on a track. They'd have to get used to traveling long distances again anyway.

The drive was uneventful, but Jesse couldn't help but grin at the sight of the Hornet on the trailer in the rear view mirror. It might not have the lettering or racing decals on but it was a welcome sight after so long being stuck in the barn the way it had been.

He knew Henry had to agree, what he didn't know was Henry's last memory of it in the rear view mirror had been a tangled mess of scrap metal.

Thunder Hollow wasn't what he'd been anticipating. Parking along one of the open gates, Jesse had jumped out of the truck to look over the track, surprised that it had been modified from its figure eight shape in to the traditional oval.

Not only that, but along with Lou, River and Junior, stood at least seventeen other Piston Cup drivers who had all looked expectantly in the direction of the Hudson pickup as it had parked along the fence. As Jesse closed the passenger door, applause rippled through the group as well as a few high-pitched whistles and shouts of approval. Jesse may have been a rival, but his health and wellbeing were more important to friends and acquaintances than being able to compete without him.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet hadn't been seen in eight months by anyone other than close friends and what little family he had. This was the first _public_ appearance Jesse had made since the accident.

He appreciated the fact that no personal questions were asked, and was overwhelmed with the show of support, the amount of firm handshakes, pats on the back and questions of _how are you feeling_ before anything was ever explained.

"We're doing a little more than just sparring matches today." River had commented with a smirk.

"Don't expect us to take it easy on you." Another driver had grinned as they passed.

Jesse had returned their banter, but once alone with Henry after the Hornet had been unloaded he was quiet.

"You think I'm ready..." He muttered.

Henry was struck with the memory of their very first official race. Not the race that Jesse had won in the Ford, but his first race in the Hornet with him acting as crew chief, where Jesse had been sidetracked wishing Ruth were there to see them and not stuck at home listening to the radio. He looked his younger brother over carefully, noticing he seemed a little pale. He leaned an arm over the roof of the Hornet, standing close to Jesse so that the conversation remained between them.

"I think you're ready, but you're the one to make the final decision, Jesse. I can't make that for you."

Jesse only nodded, breathing deeply once while looking over the track.

"Watch for your openings." Henry continued quietly, hoping a sense of familiarity would ease Jesse's nerves. "But don't leave yourself open in the meantime."

"Right..."

He patted the kid's shoulder playfully. "Don't let me see you playing dirty, either."

He finally got a grin at that. "Of course not."

The race was only a hundred laps, but that had been enough. Jesse nerves were frayed by the time the last car had crossed the finish line. He was thankful that it had been kept under wraps between drivers, he wouldn't have wanted to deal with curious onlookers and fans that had decided to follow them all out to a homemade track. He wasn't sure how, but Lou had even kept her extended family members from rubbernecking around the fences. Or if they were hanging around somewhere, he certainly wasn't aware of it.

A field of twenty cars was small by Piston standards now, but it had been enough to keep him focused and actually have to _work_ for that couple hours.

It had been a while since he'd ended an afternoon covered in dirt, and he'd sneezed more than once while they'd reloaded the Hornet at the end of the day.

"You're gunna rebreak a rib." Henry commented sarcastically as he rechecked the chains.

"That's what it feels like." Jesse had muttered after holding back another sneeze with his hand under his nose. He waved in parting to the others as they started off in the direction of Thomasville and looked back toward a few of the other drivers as they all did their own last minute checks before leaving the clearing.

Sam Green was one of the few that remained, and he pulled his car up alongside the trailer to say goodbye.

"Guess our time to shine on the track is over."

"Possibly."

"Was nice while it lasted."

"Maybe for you." Jesse laughed.

Green shrugged with an apologetic look. "Nice seeing you, Jesse."

"You too."

With a final wave, Sam pulled through the gate and left the track.

Henry finished with his work and regarded his brother a moment in silence as Jesse stood beside the trailer, helmet in hand while watching the other cars leave. He gestured for Jesse to get in to the truck and jumped in to the driver's seat.

"They think it's nice to see you now, they won't think the same when you're officially back."

Jesse grinned knowingly as he locked the door and leaned against it the way he always did. "No, they won't."

After three weeks unconscious and eight months of recuperating, Jesse had still finished in second place against drivers in peak condition.

* * *

 **AN: You know you're a fanfiction writer when you google the color blue of a 1951 Hornet. I liked the 1950 color it gave me better though lol.**


	54. Sponsors and Owners

**AN: As this story has grown and evolved from the first little bit I'd ever put together, it has changed drastically. This no longer lines up at all with similar themes of chapters in Life's Highway and stands on it's own. So don't expect to be able to connect the two necessarily.**

* * *

 **May 1955**

The Piston Cup offices were a mess. As much as Emily had tried to keep things under control during the off season, there were still pieces of documentation that had gotten away from her. She grumbled to herself while digging through forms that she was sure had been filed weeks ago, but had apparently never made it off the corner of her desk. The first race of the 1955 season was to take place the next day and she was apparently missing information on some new drivers.

The admins of the track holding the opening race had let it slide, the teams in question had their pit passes, but the physicals were not on file, nor were the signed disclosures concerning the sport and their new found status as teams in the Piston Cup circuit.

Emily couldn't figure out where their forms were.

"I need an assistant." She muttered lowly, sitting up straight in her chair and looking over the top of her desk again. It really wouldn't hurt, to have someone hired to take on half the load she'd been carrying. Putting a single small ad out would surely have the position filled in no time…

She glanced back at the stack of papers set to the side and spied a form sticking out from the melee of paperwork with a driver number she didn't recognize. With a huff, she carefully tugged the form free to read over quickly.

Well, there was one missing form down.

She assumed the other would be nearby, cutting the stack of papers in half and leafing through those just above and below the sheet she had found. With a faint grin, she set another form aside before returning the pile to the corner of her desk to figure out later.

Or they could get handed off to an assistant. She'd have to speak to her father about that.

She glanced over the first form, making sure everything was in order before moving to the second. Half way down the page she paused and did a double take before looking over the information written in the spaces provided more closely. Everything was in order, every I dotted and T crossed, but she couldn't help but be a little skeptical over what she was reading.

With the Hudson/Kelvinator/Nash merger, it didn't make much sense to add a Hudson Hornet to the field. Looking back to the first entry form, she tilted her head in further surprise. Both missing entries were for Hudson Hornets.

 _It's your funeral_ , was her initial thought, followed quickly with the question of why attempt it now? Even cars from '53 were slowly being phased out as teams upgraded and found ways to make their cars even faster. Talk around the offices lately had centered around the unanimous question of how would newer cars stand up against someone like Jesse Hudson? Or how would Piston Cup's reigning champion hold up against new competition?

Her answer had always been that they wouldn't, even Alex's recent purchase of a new Ford off the line wouldn't hold a candle to _anything_ Jesse Hudson ever drove. He'd won his very first race in some car meant for the junk yard if she remembered correctly.

She shook her head, holding the page at eye level in front of her to make sure everything she needed was there, and it was the signatures scrawled across the bottom that caused her to finally pause and set the paper down.

Something wasn't right.

* * *

Jesse had told his brother he'd meet him at the garage later in the afternoon, but that he'd wanted to stop at the Speedway to pick up the 1955 schedule. If nothing else, he might actually just take in a few races while still getting up to speed. They could always go back for film reels at a later date, but seeing it firsthand had it advantages at times, like the amateur race where he'd really begun to contemplate the idea of drafting.

"I wish you would just wait for me." Henry commented lowly while attempting to get the last remnants of oil from his hands with a rag.

"It's a sheet with a list of dates." Jesse argued. "I'm not going for anything else."

"Isn't that part of my job description though?"

Jesse had hesitated a moment before shrugging and leaning his hip against the side of the car Henry was working on, looking out in to the midmorning light where the Hornet sat in the gravel space in front of the garage bay. He answered while staring at the navy blue finish and crossed his arms. "It's just a schedule. I thought they kept those at the front desks anyway."

"They seem to change their minds weekly."

Thinking it over, Jesse had finally raised both brows and muttered an agreement before pushing away from the car and leaving the garage.

* * *

The track hadn't changed, though how much he expected it to change Jesse wasn't sure. It hadn't quite been a year since the last time he'd set foot on the red dirt of Thomasville Speedway but it had still been long enough for him. Jumping out of the Hornet, he took a moment to appreciate the morning air, running a hand over the roof of his car. Even he couldn't tell that the smooth polished surface of the frame had once been beaten and jagged nearly beyond repair.

 _Nearly_ being the key word, because they had repaired it, and no one would be the wiser unless it was pointed out.

He couldn't see a single dent or divet in the body, and the paint job was better than it had been before Fireball Beach. He took a step back, looking over the chassis just one more time, and the whitewalls, as he lit a cigarette and threw the pack through the window on to the front seat.

Jesse closed his eyes a moment and listened to the sounds of the track. Maintenance workers were clearing the infield and somewhere the tractor with the rakes was running, if he listened closely enough he could even hear faint conversation between amateur drivers hoping to get their cars and skills up to par to someday qualify for Piston Cup. He caught himself huffing faintly in amusement, looking over his shoulder in the direction of those cars as a tool of some kind clattered to the ground, followed with colorful language and banter from other racing hopefuls present. Field dressing what was left of the cigarette, he tossed it in a trash can on his way to the doors to the press box.

He was somewhat startled to see more people within the small office than what he was used to, a number of them he didn't even recognize, and when he stopped in front of the space on the shelf where extra schedules had been kept, only to find it empty, he turned in almost a full circle in search of Joe Moore.

Someone had finally noticed his presence, though he didn't know them personally, and he grinned politely at the obvious surprise of the young man. It had been a while since he'd been in the spotlight but he was still used to certain reactions.

"Mr. Hudson-"

"Yes. I just stopped to grab a schedule, Mr.-?"

"Kingsley."

"Oh, like J-?"

"He's my father."

Jesse only nodded, more kids getting jobs based on who their parents were... "Is Joe Moore around?"

"He was meeting with my father this morning, but I can find them."

He nodded again, he really wasn't interested in seeing Kingsley. He just knew that Moore would have more copies of the schedule on hand, and maybe a few minutes to give him a rundown on what had been going on, bring him up to speed at least on the logistical end of the happenings in Piston Cup.

Jesse waited, eventually moving to one of the long pew style benches near the door in the tiny reception area. At the sound of voices, he glanced up to see a small group of people walking down the hall in his direction. Joe Kingsley, his son, another young man maybe a few years younger than himself, followed by Joe Moore.

"Luckily for you they found the paperwork, son. We would have had to start from the top."

Jesse stood, not listening to what the kid might have had to say in response and brushed his hands on his jeans before stepping forward and shaking hands with Moore. Kingsley was too busy at the moment and he wasn't who Jesse had come to see anyway.

Moore's smile was genuine as he shook Jesse's hand firmly, honestly glad to see him in the midst of things again. "Welcome back."

"Well not quite back yet." Jesse replied. "Just wanted to stop in for a schedule, get a chance to be out."

"Shaking the dirt off?"

"You could call it that." He grinned. He liked Joe, years ago in his first season he'd considered the administrator for Thomasville to be like all the rest, handed a job with little to no qualification or understanding of the position. Jesse was pleased to know that he'd been wrong. Joe knew the sport, albeit minus the driving, inside and out and was one person he'd trust to give him a straight answer.

"If we're out of copies, I'll need to see about having more typed up, but I can give you the one off my desk."

"That'd be great, thanks."

Joe nodded, commenting that he'd be back in a moment while giving Jesse a friendly pat on the shoulder.

After a few minutes, Jesse had begun to look over the photos on the wall, a decent amount of them including himself, and he wondered silently what might have been taking so long.

The entrance door opened behind him and he glanced over his shoulder briefly to see Kingsley returning from the conversation he'd taken outside.

"Jesse, my boy. How are you?"

"Well, Mr. Kingsley, yourself?"

"Never better. Never better. I'm surprised to see you here this morning."

"Joe's just getting-"

"Come with me, son, we can get some things out of the way." He thumped Jesse on the back as he passed and Jesse immediately set his jaw against the flare of discomfort it sent through him. Henry didn't even hit him that hard yet, Joe had been careful just then as well.

He was only there for a schedule.

And maybe that nosiness Henry had mentioned...but mostly a schedule.

He followed the older man out of politeness and in to an office at the end of the hall where he was instructed to take a seat in any of the chairs. Kingsley grabbed his jacket from the back of another chair, commenting that _he'll be in in a moment_ before leaving. Jesse only narrowed his eyes in bemusement as the door closed, having no idea what he was speaking of. With a frustrated huff, he glanced about the small office and thought that it was probably a good thing he hadn't given Henry a specific time.

He'd been sitting on his own for at least ten minutes when the door finally opened, but yet another man he didn't recognize entered the room.

"Jesse?"

"Yes."

"My name is Dr. Lang. I've been the individual in charge of making sure the physicals are in order for Piston drivers. You're lucky you came in today, I was here for a few of the new kids."

Jesse wasn't sure if his own huff was in amusement or irritation. "I'm not here for a physical."

"All drivers will undergo a physical."

"I'm here for a schedule. I'm not driving this year."

"We could work on getting some of the preliminary work out of the way, couldn't we?"

Jesse eyed him a moment in silence, weighing his options. He'd been cleared by his own family doctor to return to normal activity, there were no specific limitations he was facing. He didn't exactly have all day, though, and he didn't know how long they expected to keep him. Finally after an uncomfortable pause between the two, Jesse sat up straighter.

"Sure, might as well."

In the reception area, Joe held the folded sheet in one hand and paused when he reached the bench where Jesse had been seated.

"What happened to Hudson?"

Kingsley looked up from the paperback book he had nearly folded in half. "He's with Dr. Lang."

"He's-..." He glanced down the hall where he knew a few of the last minute physicals had been held and heaved a sigh. "Why would you-"

"He needs one."

"Not this year, he doesn't." Joe nearly snapped while walking away. "Now I have a mess to clean up."

* * *

The Hudson pickup pulled in to the lot, coming to an abrupt halt at the fence beside the Hornet and Henry jumped out before the engine had fully shut off. Whatever was going on had Moore in a fit and he'd never heard the man as angry as he'd been over the phone. All he'd been told was he needed to get over to the Speedway, as soon as possible.

His first thought had been that Jesse had been dumb enough to get on the track, but seeing the newly restored Hornet caused his brows to lower in thought as he rounded the hood on his way in to the press box.

Joe had seen him out one of the windows and met him at the door, but Henry only partially heard what he was being told. He'd entered just in time to see Jesse following a man from one room to another, but the look he'd given Henry had spoken volumes. He could tell the kid was uncomfortable, harried, and so pale that he was concerned over his well-being.

"What is-"

"I thought that's what the boy was here for." Kingsley cut in.

"He was here for a schedule." Joe held up the offending paper, now crinkled and creased in his left hand. "You have no authority to even make suggestions as of now."

Henry watched the Thomasville admin in surprise, having never seen him react in such an aggressive manner.

"As a sponsor and team owner-"

"You're a sponsor." Henry cut in, his own irritation flaring as he gestured to himself and continued. " _I'm_ the team owner."

"I own team #92."

There was a brief pause, Henry looking like he'd been slapped. " _What!"_

"I co-own team #92." The elder gentleman of the group repeated. He over enunciated his words, grating on Henry's nerves with the obvious condescension in his tone.

That seemed like a conflict of interest, how could you sponsor two teams, partially own one, and not hold any bias?

Before he said, or did, something he would later regret, Henry looked toward Joe. "I want to see Jesse. _Now._ "

"Drivers have to-" Kingsley started.

"You sit over there." Joe cut in, pointing toward the pew bench. "And you won't say another word or I'll have you removed from the premises."

Kingsley finally relented with the threat, holding both hands up appeasingly with a disarming smile both younger men knew was false. Joe started down the hall, knowing he'd be followed and knocked twice before opening the door. He didn't wait for permission.

"Dr. Lang, could I have a word?"

The doctor set down his stethoscope with a nod, commenting to Jesse that he'd be back in a moment before leaving the room. As he passed, Joe motioned for Henry to go ahead and closed the door behind them.

Henry locked the door, testing it once before turning to look his brother over.

Jesse had deflated, his shoulders hunched forward and he pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. Whatever act he was playing for the doctor wasn't going to last much longer.

"Are you alright?"

" 'm dizzy." Jesse whined.

"What the hell kind of physical-"

"Vision." He sat up straight again, color still not returning yet. "Hearing, reflexes, mobility..." Jesse swallowed heavily and shook his head. "They did this test with my lungs where I had to breathe out until he told me to stop-...they're gunna test balance..." With an exhausted look he finally met his brother's eyes. "What are they doing, Henry..."

Dread filled the pit of his stomach but he wouldn't voice his concern yet. He only reached over carefully and rubbed a hand over Jesse's back. "I dunno, Hollywood..."


	55. What's In A Name

"I told him all I wanted was a schedule..."

"Well-" Henry started, speaking lowly to keep the conversation between them even though the door had been closed behind him. "-they obviously don't feel the need to listen." He looked Jesse over carefully, taking in the way he stared at the door with a haggard expression. Color had only just begun to return to his face and Henry felt like some of the progress they'd been making had been completely erased, like kicking your foot through tire tracks in the dirt. With a low sigh, he continued. "Think you can hold out a little longer?"

Jesse only hummed lowly, elbows braced on his knees as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Was almost done anyway..."

"Alright." He pat the kid's leg gently before standing and going for the door. "Get it together, kid. I'm gunna find out what's going on."

He waited long enough for Jesse to compose himself before opening the door and leaving the room in search of Moore and anyone else who could explain exactly what was happening, looking back over his shoulder once after passing the doctor who'd started the process of Jesse's physical and paperwork.

Dr. Lang had left the door open this time, setting a clip board aside as he spoke to Jesse. "There seems to have been confusion concerning what's going on. I was under the impression that this morning's physical would be a base line to compare with next year's physical when you came in, just something to be kept on record."

When the man had checked Jesse's ears, whatever instrument that had been, had aggravated his injury. Dr. Lang didn't necessarily have a gentle demeanor, unless Jesse was just more sensitive to certain things after the accident. Having his ear tugged at had caused the side of his head to begin to throb and even watching the man as he spoke now gave him an uneasy feeling. While he could focus on the man's face, and knew he was sitting upright, he felt like he was leaning to the side. He was reminded of Dr. Horner's comments concerning his head injury and the issues it could cause, that it would be the most sensitive and take the longest time to heal.

With the confusion of the morning he hoped they would forget the rest of this physical and let him go home.

"I'm not driving-" He repeated, in hopes that he could just get the schedule and go. He'd wasted enough time trying to appease them.

"At all?" Lang looked at him questioningly, lifting the clip board again.

Jesse worked his jaw in frustration before answering. "Yes. I have been released to drive, I have been released to return to all normal activity. I'm not driving competitively this season is what I'm trying to explain. I came to pick up the season schedule, just to keep up with what's going on. Mr. Moore was getting a copy for me when all of this started. I didn't come here this morning with the intention to start the process of getting back on the track."

"You don't want to return to the track?"

"Of course I do." Jesse nearly snapped. "Next season."

The man finally seemed to understand and nodded slowly, leaning back in the chair and flipping over the physical report to the blank side of the paper. "Have you had any episodes?"

Jesse eyed him in silence a moment, looking between the pen he held in his hand and his face. "Episodes?"

"Confusion, memory loss, loss of balance."

He sat up straighter, a flash of fear coursing through him. "Some months ago, I couldn't give you a specific date..."

"But it has happened?"

"Yes..."

"Did you report it to your physician?"

"I did-" He glanced toward the door. "We did."

"Were you given any instruction concerning-...?"

"That it's expected, and unless it's severe I won't need to report it." Jesse caught himself staring at the pen as Dr. Lang wrote a note.

"With injuries like this you can assume those instances will happen now and then. I haven't been able to look over your records but once I contact your doctor later this afternoon or tomorrow, I'll have a better understanding."

Jesse only nodded, watching quietly as he flipped back and forth through the forms he had in front of him. He attempted to answer any question posed and wondered vaguely on how much easier it would have been just to lie. How many times could he repeat himself in mentioning that he had no intention of driving that season, which meant he had a little over a year to continue in his recuperating before returning to the sport.

"Alright." Dr. Lang finally commented, setting the clipboard aside. "I think we're about done here."

Jesse shifted, preparing to stand, but paused when the elder man continued.

"Just a few more things and you can go."

He was instructed to sit on the edge of the portable exam table and to lie back. In doing so, Jesse felt a wave of vertigo strike and stared at a tile in the ceiling in an attempt to center himself. He'd been poked and prodded at so many times in the last six months that he really wasn't surprised, he was just thankful that he wasn't nearly as sensitive as he had been at previous visits. Now if the ceiling would just stop moving...

He sat up again when instructed, and waited impatiently for his next task.

"One last thing, Jesse. If you could stand and close your eyes."

"Okay." He did as he was told, body tensing to remain standing straight.

"Bring your left foot off the ground, and hold it behind you the way a runner would stretch."

Jesse opened his eyes. "What?"

Dr. Lang demonstrated. "A balance test is the last thing we check."

Heaving a low sigh, Jesse did as he was told, holding the position until he was instructed to change sides. He wasn't sure how long he was supposed to have done that for. He probably would have managed longer if he'd been allowed to keep his eyes open.

Finally released from the office, he was able to catch up with Henry and shrugged his coat back on while listening to the conversation between Joe and his brother. The room was still spinning somewhat, but he was able to focus enough to push the nausea aside and listen as Joe was finally able to hand him the schedule he had originally been there for.

"This has turned in to a mess, and I apologize, but are you both available for the afternoon?"

Jesse glanced across toward Henry, a little surprised by the question. Both brothers shrugged with a shared look before Henry replied. "I guess we are now."

Joe glanced in either direction before opening the door to a small conference room. Thomasville had nothing on some of the other tracks but they still had a number of offices to work in. They weren't elaborate, or very large, but they served their purpose. He led the #51 team in to the small space and turned to face them with a look of frustration.

"It's been requested that we meet at the main offices."

"What? When?" The Hudson brothers spoke over each other, sharing a look before turning back to Joe.

"This evening."

"That's a few hour drive, this can't wait until at least-?" Henry started.

Joe only raised both hands. "My hands are tied."

"What does Piston want that's so-"

"It isn't Mr. Piston."

Jesse ran a hand through his hair. "It's these sponsors, isn't it? I _knew_ sponsorship was-!"

"I assume it's to clear the air." Joe attempted to calm them down. "This whole thing has already reached the main offices and everyone just wants to have it settled before it gets out of hand. It was requested that we all get it taken care of before any more misunderstanding take place."

"They just don't want this to tie up the beginning of their season."

"Jesse-"

"Tell me I'm wrong, Henry. Since they stepped in they've wanted to run the show and anything or any _one_ that steps out of line is going to answer for it."

" _Jesse._ " Henry muttered with a stressed look in the Thomasville administrator's direction.

"I don't disagree with him." Joe only muttered with a shake of his head.

With a sigh, Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. "What time were they expecting us..."

* * *

They'd left right from the Speedway, taking the Hornet because Jesse was adamant on driving his own vehicle to the Piston Cup main offices. Henry had tried to talk him down but after an afternoon dealing with a doctor who didn't know the history of his injuries or recuperation, and then this entire fiasco with administration, the #51 driver's attitude had gone from sour to downright nasty. An errand that should have only taken ten minutes had become an all day ordeal, and Jesse was livid.

The drive had taken longer than usual with traffic, and while they weren't late, they couldn't hang around in the lot either.

"What are you doing?" Henry had turned when he realized Jesse wasn't beside him, and watched as he opened the back door to the Hornet.

Jesse had thrown his casual coat in the back seat and shrugged his racing jacket on, kicking the door shut before fixing his collar and catching up to his crew chief. "Making my presence known."

Henry watched the back of the jacket as he passed. Jesse's stride was purposeful, his body language challenging. It had been a long time since Henry had seen him that way. They'd gotten him riled up, Jesse had been passive for months as he healed, sitting back and biding his time quietly. The cage had been rattled and that sleeping dog hadn't been left alone.

It was Kingsley that met up with them first. "Jesse, my boy. I apologize for the confusion today, it's just that it's raised a few questions we'd like to get cleared up."

"Understandably, Mr. Kinsgley."

"Please, Jesse, remember to call me Joe."

Jesse was taller than the sponsor and looked him over quickly with a cool expression before meeting his eyes again. "I believe the situation calls for formalities."

There was hesitation on the man's part before he nodded and gestured to an open conference room. "Quite right."

While the vertigo had subsided some time ago, the lighting in the conference room was already chipping away at Jesse's resolve and the pain that had begun to set in during his physical was slowly evolving in to what he knew would be a massive headache by the end of the afternoon. The stark white walls of the space did nothing to ease his discomfort, nor did the way the light reflected on the polished surface of the table. The only safe place to focus his attention was the dozen or so faces inhabiting the room.

Sponsors, administrators, a few team owners and Edward Piston sat around the tables configured in a U shape. Jesse watched as Kingsley took a seat to the side, beside Sinclaire, which didn't surprise him, and Joe Moore took a seat closer to the head of the table near Piston.

"Forgive us for being under dressed-" Henry spoke once everyone was settled, and Jesse could tell he was just as upset as he was. "-but we had no intention of visiting the main offices today."

"You had only stopped at the Speedway for some paperwork." Joe Moore supplied.

"Yes." Jesse took his lead.

"Paperwork for the season?" A team owner asked.

"No. I'd only stopped at the office for this year's schedule." Before anyone could cut in, he elaborated further. "Not to participate, not to know when I would be arriving at any given track, just to start getting caught up on everything I've missed while being away."

"Well." Edward Piston started, moving his chair forward to get closer to the table. "Before we do get any further along in this meeting, I'd like to say that aside from the confusion brought about this afternoon, we are all happy to see that you've made such a miraculous recovery in the short amount of time it's taken for you to get back on your feet."

There were some quick murmurs of agreement while Jesse nodded in thanks, as well as a few comments of _welcome back_ before they returned to the previous topic.

Kingsley was the one to take over, and both Hudson brothers gave him their attention as he explained the situation to the rest of the room and brought everyone up to speed.

"What's concerning-" The sponsor added when he was finished with his explanations. "-is the report from the physical given this afternoon."

Jesse's eyes narrowed, and he felt Henry tense at his side. "Nothing was ever said during my physical. Dr. Lang explained he'd use it as a base line for next season."

Sinclaire, the administrator for Fireball Beach spoke, and Jesse's fingers curled in to fists and his jaw set as he eyed the man. "He didn't share anything with you?"

"No. Should he have?"

"You failed."

Silence descended over the room and Jesse felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. Unsure he had even heard that correctly, he blinked a few times and shook his head. "I wh- I failed?"

Henry leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and spoke before Jesse had a chance. "What specifically was the criteria? Was it the entire physical or a few tests?"

Jesse could see the man's lips moving as he read off the report but he couldn't hear him. The only thing he could concentrate on was his own heart pounding in his chest and the knot forming in his throat. The vice those words had tightened around him was crushing, making it hard to breath or focus on what was happening around him.

He'd failed.

They were calling his ability in to question.

They weren't concerned for his well-being, they were questioning his ability to drive.

"-hearing impairment of the right ear, possible tinnitus. Failiure in balance."

Jesse snapped to attention at that. "I did the balance test."

"Yes, but you failed." A sponsor across the table replied.

"Patient was unable to maintain balance for specified amount of time to pass." Kingsley read before setting the packet down.

"I wasn't there for a _physical-_ "

"Jesse." Henry muttered lowly, putting a hand on his arm before taking over. "While I wasn't present for the majority of what took place this morning, as a team we've had no intention of coming back to Piston Cup without making sure all team members are physically capable as well as having a vehicle that meets-"

"Is that the car?" A team owner spoke up as they looked out the window to the parking lot below them.

"It is." Jesse muttered defensively.

"Would it pass inspection by officials?"

Now Jesse could tell his brother's patience was wearing thin, his voice hardening as he spoke. "I wasn't aware officials would be inspecting vehicles, but yes. it would."

"You're certain?" Sinclaire spoke up again.

"Positive." He nearly spat.

The brothers both eyed Sinclaire grimly as he was about to retort but all conversation ended when Piston interrupted.

"Before this gets out of hand." He offered a pointed look in the direction of the few sponsors in question before looking to the members of team #51. "While there are some concerning findings in the report made this morning, as you said, you will not be driving this season."

Jesse felt the tension ease in his shoulders, somewhat appeased by what he was hearing.

"That gives you approximately a full year to continue recuperating."

"Given that he has a sponsor." One man spoke up.

"And can pass a physical, and vehicle inspection." Stated another.

"Twelve months is more than enough time to accomplish that." Henry replied. "Jesse Hudson has already been released to regular activity by his personal doctor."

"It was Dr. Lang's suggestion that he go back." Kingsley replied.

"Dr. Lang isn't-"

Kingsley held up another form, and Jesse scowled at the show he made of returning his reading glasses as he scanned the paper in search of whatever it was he was going to read. It seemed rehearsed, and he flexed his fingers under the table nervously at the realization. This had all been planned.

"If a driver and/or team, or substitute driver's, capacity within the sport should come in to question, a decision will be made by an appointed board of Piston Cup officials. The board will interview the individual/s in question to decide if said driver and/or team will remain sanctioned within Piston Cup."

The Hudson brothers watched him in silence, they'd been there for the creation of that particular bylaw, Jesse hadn't been very fond of it. Those bylaws had been put in to place long before Kingsley had become a sponsor, before Sinclaire had ever felt the need to throw his weight around, before drivers answered to someone else and still had a say in their own position within the sport. Jesse felt his grasp on the situation weakening, they were the ones with the power. They were the ones who would make the final decisions.

He'd hated the idea when sponsorships were proposed, it made sense in some instances, but now they'd be deciding his fate.

They'd be deciding if he would remain sanctioned within Piston Cup. It wouldn't matter how healthy he was.

He couldn't tell if the ringing in his ears was the tinnitus that had been mentioned in his medical report or if it was a death knell, meant only for him.

"This is the board of officials I assume?"

The room fell silent, all attention on Jesse when he'd spoken suddenly, interrupting any conversation that may have been taking place.

He glanced between a few members on the other side of the table before raising a brow and questioning again. "I am correct in that assumption, aren't I?"

Joe Moore rubbed at his jaw uncomfortably with one hand before nodding. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Hudson."

This wasn't Michigan. He wasn't pitching an idea to a car company in hopes of working out a deal and a chance to prove himself, this was his career and livelihood laid out in front of individuals who _still_ looked down their nose at him after he'd been the one making them their fortunes the previous years. He wasn't gambling for a chance anymore, he couldn't even _fight_ anymore. They held information he wasn't even aware of. He'd come in to the situation blind and therefor unprepared. He and Henry both were left vulnerable and unprotected, without any form of ammunition while a couple fat cats and pencil pushers pulled the stings. Kingsley and Sinclaire had an enormous amount of influence when it came to the political arena of Piston Cup, and somehow those names were more powerful than Hudson.

Joe Kingsley broke the silence that had followed Moore's response. Setting the forms down on the table in front of him, he inclined his head first in the direction of the Hudson brothers, and then looked toward everyone else in the room. "After the findings of this morning, and the medical report handed to me by Dr. Lang. I will not continue to sponsor Team #51."

Jesse swallowed thickly, that wasn't really much of a surprise, but hearing it spoken drove the wrench a little deeper in to the gears. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Henry was trying to figure their way out of the situation. They had a year to find a sponsor, they didn't need Kingsley. Maybe Henry could even...

"I think." Edward Piston's words pulled him from his thoughts. "That we need to take a brief recess before continuing this conversation. I expect you all to be back in this room in fifteen minutes."

Jesse waited for the room to empty before standing and pushing his chair in. He felt wobbly as they left the conference room, heart still pounding.

Henry grabbed him by the shoulder as soon as they were out the door. His voice was low, keeping the conversation between them. "Look, Jesse. I dunno what the hell is going on but we'll-"

"They're gunna turn us away." He muttered, staring past Henry's shoulder and down the corridor. Through the decorative glass panels of the lobby he could see a number of people working at the front desks. He wondered silently if they knew what was going on.

He was half expecting Henry to argue with him, but his brother wasn't oblivious. The final decision was out of their hands, and their own sponsor, _previous_ sponsor, had dropped him in favor of a rookie. Jesse could only assume it was the kid he'd seen Kingsley with in Thomasville that morning. Spotting Kingsley further up the hall, Jesse stepped away from his brother, ignoring the pain that was spreading from behind his ear, to his eyes, as he ran up to cut him off in the hall, standing in front of the man with a hand raised to stop him.

"Sir, with all due respect, you can't just leave us out to dry like this. We've worked too hard to-"

"I'm afraid I can, son. I couldn't sit idle while my competitors came in and claimed the young guns."

Jesse shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands on his hips. This was about competition, Kingsley was using his previous accident as a means to get rid of him. To get The Fabulous Hudson Hornet out of the line up would open the door for less experienced drivers.

"Mr. Kingsley, they're untried-" He gestured to himself. "I'm proven. I've _been_ proven-"

"You were untried at one point also, boy." Kingsley's tone had become less congenial with Jesse's show of sudden understanding. He stepped around Jesse as he let him pass.

"You were reigning champion for three years, Kiddo"

"Three years isn't very long, Mr. Kingsley." He replied while walking beside him. "I'm only-"

The man leaned closer, cutting him off and invading his personal space in a way that Jesse didn't appreciate. He put an arm over Jesse's shoulders and patted his chest with his free hand, ignoring the way Jesse eyed him in thinly veiled offense. "You were a phenomenal racer, but what about letting some of the younger lads try their hand at it, son?"

Jesse leaned away from him slightly. His name wasn't son, kid, kiddo, or _boy_.

He was Jesse Aaron Hudson, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

"I don't see how I'd be crowding the track that-"

Mr. Kingsley stopped and turned to face him fully. "You had your time to shine, son. It's someone else's turn."

"Excuse me?"

"There's a whole line of eager boys waiting for a spot."

"So you'll just hand them mine."

There was a pause before Kingsley nodded and patted his shoulder. "No hard feelings, kid. It's just business." Stepping around Jesse again, he started back toward the conference room, speaking to one of the other team owners animatedly about how their team looked for the season.

"Jesse..." Henry didn't need to be part of the conversation to realize what was going on. He'd been piecing together what he could since arriving at the track earlier that afternoon and had come to the same conclusion that Jesse had.

They were getting backdoored, and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Come on..."

Jesse followed him back in to the conference room, taking his previous seat and only somewhat listening when the discussion picked up once more.

Piston took over before anyone could chime in. "Tensions are running high, understandably so. We've never been faced with a situation such as this, nor have we had to go back to the bylaws concerning the sanctioning of an established driver." He looked up at the team, hands folded on the table in front of him. "As of now I can not cast a vote, but I am going to make it known that I see nothing wrong with team #51 returning to Piston Cup for the 1956 season. That being said, in the event of a tie. My decision would be the deciding factor."

The Hudson Hornet Team only watched in silence as one by one, the members present expressed their support or denial of Jesse's continuation as a driver.

The final number, had they included Edward Piston's vote, only amounted to five in favor, eight opposed.

Jesse Hudson wouldn't be permitted back on a track.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Jesse."

"What have you to be sorry for." He glanced up at to meet Moore's eyes after being handed some paperwork. "You were one of the few that voted for me to stay."

Joe nodded faintly. "We'll put you up in a room in town, tomorrow we'll need to meet so we can end your contract."

Jesse nodded, taking a deep breath. He set his jaw, and his eyes began to sting as he read over the heading of the form he'd been handed.

 _Driver Termination Disclosure._

He glanced up to see that Henry must have been having a similar conversation with another administrator. They appeared to hold more sway than Joe probably would, and were probably only ever in the main offices.

"Read over this and bring it back tomorrow. I'll call with a time for the meeting. Wherever you stay for the night, just sign in under Piston. The hotel will contact us and we'll take care of the rest."

"Yeah." He looked back at Joe in distraction. "Right. Thanks."

"I'll see you tomorrow..." Joe pat him on the shoulder before turning away.

When Henry realized Jesse had been released from his conversation, he'd excused himself from his own and came up beside him as they left the building.

The sun was nearly set as they made it to the car, and Jesse stopped short in his tracks a few feet from the front of the Hornet. The chrome reflected the last bit of light and the sun shone through the windshield, nearly blinding him in its position.

Henry had paused, and stood only a few feet in front of him. He didn't need to speak, they were thinking the same thing.

After a moment, Jesse reached in to his jacket pocket and held out the Hudson emblem key ring, his voice thick. "Can you drive."

Without a word, Henry took the keys, and in silence they left the parking lot to the Piston Cup Headquarters.

He didn't take them directly to the nearest hotel. Instead of heading straight in to town, Henry had detoured a bit through the country. He caught himself constantly looking in Jesse's direction, who only sat hunched in the passenger seat with his arms crossed as he looked out the side window. Finding a pull off, out of the way, where he assumed not too many people traveled, Henry shut off the car and listened as the engine clicked and tapped as it cooled after such a short distance. There was nothing to say.

"They railroaded us."

He looked up to see Jesse staring out the front windshield, the fading light of the evening washing the front seat of the Hornet gold and catching on a tear Jesse hadn't been able to catch before it rolled down his cheek.

"Yeah." Henry muttered, glancing to the side as he nodded slowly. "They did."

"I can still drive. Henry, I still have-"

His own resolve shattered when he knew it had finally hit Jesse head on, he couldn't tell if the sound that had escaped his younger brother's throat was a laugh or a sob.

"I didn't even get a chance to show 'em."


	56. History

Henry hadn't gotten any sleep, and he wasn't sure exactly how Jesse was able to manage getting any, unless it was just pure physical exhaustion. The hotel room was dark except for the pale morning light that snuck around the blackout curtains and he could just make out Jesse's figure on the bed closer to the door. The kid's side rose and fell gently with each breath and Henry stayed as quiet as possible as he got up and rummaged through what little belongings they had with them. Sitting in the semi-dark, he stared at their reflections in the black television screen across from the beds and tracked the little orange ember of the cigarette he'd lit before leaning back against the headboard and turning his attention on the ceiling.

They hadn't exactly gone for high end accommodations, Jesse had been silent after their brief conversation in the middle of nowhere and when he'd asked where they should stay, Jesse had only shrugged noncommittally. Piston was footing the bill, they could have gone anywhere, racked up a bill with ordered meals, turndown service, and a personal bar.

Instead they'd stopped at the first place they came across, with two beds, a bathroom, and water stains on the ceiling.

They'd both been so shell shocked and unprepared that they wouldn't even have proper attire for this meeting they were expected to return for later in the morning. He hadn't slept at all, so his clothing at least wouldn't be too rumpled. He could pass as presentable. Jesse had thought ahead enough to sleep in the white undershirt he always wore, so at least the button down would pass...

That thought caused Henry's gaze to shift from the watermarks in the corner joint over the door to where Jesse had thrown his jacket in disgust the night before. Before looking over the forms they'd been given, he'd yanked the navy blue jacket off and tossed it on the chair in the corner, ignoring the fact that it had fallen to the floor behind the chair legs in a crumpled heap.

Henry set his jaw, ashing the cigarette before shoving it between his lips to free his hands as he rounded Jesse's bed and leaned over the back of the chair. Brushing away the dust bunnies that had collected around the hem and cuffs of the sleeves, he folded the jacket their sister had put so much time in to before returning it to the chair.

Jesse was angry, he knew that, but realizing how poorly he'd treated something Ruth had worked so hard on would only make him feel worse in the long run.

* * *

Word in the Piston Cup offices spread faster than word on the track and the news of Jesse Hudson's fate in the sport had become common knowledge before he'd even had a chance to read through the termination agreement he'd been handed by Joe Moore. What irritated Emily the most, was that every time someone repeated what they knew, the story changed.

Jesse Hudson had returned to Thomasville Speedway, expecting the red carpet treatment.

Hudson had shown up wanting to be added to the line up for the first race of the '55 season.

He'd made a scene.

The meeting was for disciplinary purposes.

He'd made demands Piston Cup wasn't going to adhere to.

Emily had remained as diplomatic as possible, having heard the full story between her father and Joe the evening before and had attempted to caution those who had included her in their conversations throughout the morning. There was still work to be done before the first race, while the majority of employees were gossiping over anything they could get their hands on.

What irritated her more, was that while it was what everyone was talking about, there was still apparently a sense of need in keeping it quiet.

Her heels clicked against the tile floor of the hallway as she marched from her office to one of the main desks in the lobby where two more girls were speaking quietly between themselves. They had been with Piston Cup at least a few years, but didn't have quite the seniority she held.

"-was what I was told."

"He always seemed so sweet, though. Do you really think-?"

Emily slapped the heavy manila folder down on the desk in front of them, causing both to jump and look up at her in surprise.

"These were supposed to have been filed yesterday."

One of the girls reached for the folder, both stuttering and looking for a decent excuse.

"Actually-" Emily continued. "I believe that was the last thing that was requested as of _yesterday afternoon._ "

"Emily, yesterday we were backed up with-"

"Eavesdropping. I know. I nearly went ahead and did this myself until I remembered it wasn't my responsibility."

"We're all-"

The look on Emily's face killed any comments they had prepared. She tilted her head slightly, condescension was etched in the corners of her smile. "Please don't tell me you're too busy, that a single driver's meeting can ruin the work flow of an entire department."

The girl's arguments deflated, both muttering an _of course not, Miss Piston._

"There's at least three more of those." Emily gestured to the folder. "You can come for the others whenever it's convenient."

Without waiting for a reply, Emily turned back toward her office. She'd failed to mention she'd already sorted through five on her own.

Before entering her office, she happened to hear Moore discussing with someone that he was to be meeting with an intern that afternoon and groaned as she stopped right inside the door. A newly hired assistant would be there any moment, giving her a shadow for the rest of the week. She turned back around and started for the lobby once again.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?"

She glanced over her shoulder, slowing down to walk at her brother's side. "For as much time as you spend here, you should put yourself to work."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Making yourself useful."

"More useful than some."

"Alexander..."

"It's true."

She was sure that was more of an underhanded dig against someone in particular than anything, but wasn't going to have that conversation in front of employees of their family. She glanced over the check in sheet at one of the desks to make sure she hadn't missed the new assistant's arrival before looking back at him. "What are you really here for."

"I don't want to miss the fireworks."

"You're worse than the rest of them." She muttered while watching the glass doors.

She was able to get him out of her hair long enough to meet the girl who would be helping her, and after a few hours talking they'd come to the realization that they'd known each other as kids. More so acquaintances, than close friends, they still remembered each other just enough to ease the girl's nervousness upon starting in a facility as large as Piston Cup. Emily wasn't too surprised to suddenly see her brother again later that morning, nosy as ever, and without anything to bide his time.

"She'll be taking over some of the responsibilities I haven't been able to keep up with." She gestured to the girl to introduce them. "You remember Karen Foster? We'd gone to school together for a while."

"I'm sorry, I don't." Alex shook his head before he introduced himself.

"I do." Karen grinned faintly. "But only because you and my cousin were close friends."

Emily fought the urge to roll her eyes, yes okay, they all knew each other...she glanced up when one of the businessmen of the office peeked around the door frame.

"Mr. Smith, can I help you?"

* * *

Before even getting out of the car, Jesse could feel everyone's eyes on them. Some people coming in for meetings, maybe some coming in for this new idea of share holding they had heard about...

His eyes still stung and his throat was sore, he'd folded the form Joe had asked him to bring back and kept it in the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

They'd read the paper over and over, looking for any possible loop hole they could use to their benefit. They'd rifled through the booklet of bylaws Henry had snagged from the lobby the night before, but there was nothing they could bend to their advantage. There was no wording they could call in to question in hopes of their case. It was cut and dry and left no room for error.

Jesse was done racing.

"How long do you think they were planning this?" He looked across toward Henry as they sat in the parking lot.

"Who knows...he saw his chance and he took it..."

Jesse pushed the latch and kicked the door open, muttering as he got out. "Been dumped for some kid who doesn't know what three wheel brakes are."

Henry reached for his own coat in the back seat, sighing at Jesse's next comment, obviously thinking he was reaching for the racing jacket.

"Leave it. They don't care who I am anyway."

Joe met them at the door, leading them through the silent lobby along with a few other men in suits through to a corridor and up the stairs to a conference room halfway down the hall on the third floor.

He was used to attention, he was used to being watched, but this made him uncomfortable. Jesse felt on edge, the hair on the back of his neck standing up even as they stood in the expansive conference room.

Joe didn't offer them a seat, understanding that they'd want to be done with this as soon as possible. "Do you still have the-"

Jesse fished the trifold form from his jacket and laid it on to the table to smooth out. He hadn't signed it yet, he couldn't bring himself to. He only partially listened through the ringing in his ears that had returned when Henry asked why he hadn't been given any paper work. He worked his jaw and smiled grimly when it was explained that Henry's capabilities weren't in question. It was Jesse's health and standing alone that had been under fire.

He hadn't been there for a physical.

Jesse knew he could talk till he was blue in the face and it wouldn't matter. The vote had been eight to four, five if including Piston but that technically wasn't allowed.

He wasn't about to go pleading and crying over his case either. He still had his dignity.

He'd lost. That was all there was to it.

He blinked a few times, coming out of his own reverie when he realized his brother was ready to argue the point. Team #51 was exactly that, _a team_ , and if the driver was found unfit then-

"It's okay, Henry..." He met his eyes, silently pleading for him to not make this any worse than it already was. The decision was made. He appreciated his older brother's thoughts on the matter but it wasn't going to change the outcome. They stood in a room with three administrators, only one of which they knew and knew cared about the situation. The other two, Jesse wouldn't know from Adam, nor did he particularly care.

"Jesse."

Ignoring him, Jesse looked back toward Joe. "So I only have to sign here..."

Joe turned the paper toward himself, pulling a pen from his pocket. "Print here..." He made an X on the line within the text. "Sign down here..." He pointed with the pen.

He didn't have a problem printing his name, and only hesitated a moment before signing the line that Joe had indicated.

He'd never hated his own handwriting so much as in that moment.

The other two admins, who he realized were only there as witnesses, quickly filed out of the room and Jesse watched silently as Joe refolded the form to take with him.

"I am sorry, Jesse."

He forced a tense grin. "Just business."

Joe shook their hands, and as they all moved toward the door he rubbed a thumb across his brow uncomfortably. "I'm afraid you'll need to turn your keys in."

"We don't have them with us." Henry's voice was low.

"Just bring them down to the track when you can."

Jesse knew he was trying to make this easy on them, but it would be so much easier to just rip the bandage off and be done with it.

"I have to walk you out..."

"They afraid I'm gunna throw some kind of tantrum?"

"It's just policy..."

He felt sick walking back through the lobby, ignoring anyone aside from their small group but he could tell all chatter and movement had stopped as soon as their presence was known. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing Jesse Hudson as beaten and broken as he felt. Just because he wasn't racing didn't mean The Fabulous Hudson Hornet didn't still have an image to uphold.

Joe only had to stay with them as far as the main entrance, shaking hands with them again and muttering a goodbye before returning to the building. They knew they were still being watched, and crossed the parking lot with backs straight and heads held high as Jesse crossed to the driver's side.

"It's really too bad."

Jesse hesitated, hand on the door latch as he summoned what patience he had before looking back toward the building.

Alex Piston stood near his own new Thunderbird and Jesse was positive he'd waited around to get a chance to catch him outside the offices.

"Shouldv'e never wrecked, Hudson."

"Yeah well, sometimes that's just how the dice rolls. You'll find out sooner or later." He glanced across the top of the Hornet to see Henry watching Piston carefully.

"What even _made_ you think you could come back?"

He knew the other was goading them, maybe even in the hopes that they would step out of line on Piston owned grounds.

"You're lucky you're on daddy's property. Maybe we can pick this conversation up another time."

"Is that a threat, Hudson?"

Jesse only shrugged a shoulder, sliding in to the car and ending the conversation. Any longer and he knew he'd end up in trouble.

"That pompous little-" Henry started.

Jesse muttered an agreement before starting the car and peeling out of the lot. Spiteful sure, but it was all he could afford at the moment. "I'm not risking jail time over an idiot like him."

* * *

His attitude only made it a few miles before the weight of what had just occurred settled heavily over his shoulders. Jesse pulled to the side of the road just before the exit south, marked for Georgia. Letting the Hornet idle in park, he let his hands drop from the wheel and listened as the engine waited impatiently, as if it knew the highway was _right there_ and they'd be able to open up and fly.

Henry reached across and took the key from the ignition, knowing he'd be switching places with Jesse, whenever they got underway again...

He'd only stopped at the track yesterday...

"I just wanted a schedule." Jesse whispered.


	57. Returning the Keys

"You're not coming back?"

"No." Jesse glanced up from the stack of papers in front of him on the table and met Junior's eyes briefly before going back to his task of sorting. "I won't be back."

"Can they really do that?" Lou asked.

There was a brief pause as Jesse unfolded a paper and tossed it in the box to be burned as soon as he saw the Piston Cup heading. "Yeah. They can."

Henry sat at his usual spot at the table and reached for half of the papers in front of Jesse to help him. There wasn't anything they could do, and rehashing the situation over and over wasn't doing them any favors, as much as the others may have had their best interests in mind.

"There's gotta be something-" River started.

"I'm sure if they heard enough from the rest of us-" Lou spoke at the same time. "-they'd have to-"

"Look, I signed the papers, alright?" Jesse snapped suddenly, crushing an old coffee stained form in his hand. "I signed the agreement. It's over. Finished. Done. There is nothing anyone can do. I'm no longer a sanctioned driver in Piston Cup so just _leave it._ "

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group until River gestured to the Hornet sitting in the drive. "But you worked so hard-" His statement faded uncertainly when Henry stopped what he was doing to meet his gaze and shook his head slowly.

There was another long silence as they were slowly beginning to realize the ramifications of what had taken place only days before. They hadn't received word themselves until earlier that afternoon. Not having seen either of the Hudson brothers in days, as they were preparing their own cars for the season, it wasn't until they had all checked in for last minute details at Thomasville Speedway that they'd heard any inkling of Jesse Hudson not returning to the sport.

Piston Cup without Jesse Hudson didn't seem possible. They'd adjusted through the rest of the '54 season as much as they could, but would no longer be able to compete with the previously reigning champion, or have the chance to remove him from his navy blue throne in a fair fight.

The current reigning champion, 1954 Piston Cup winner, wasn't exactly a hard match...

"What are you gunna do..." Lou finally asked.

Jesse shrugged a shoulder, once again glancing up before going back to work. "Get a job in town I guess..."

The idea of Jesse Hudson working in some menial position in Thomasville, Georgia, didn't add up.

"We'd been advised to make investments years ago." He continued. "It's not exactly life or death right now."

They'd never exactly flaunted it, but the Hudson family had been extremely well off as early as the 1951 season. Neither of them were concerned over finances or making ends meet. It was the smack of pride and dented egos that were the problem.

The subject eventually shifted away from the uncomfortable topic, and it wasn't mentioned again, even as the others left for the evening. With the cardboard box under his arm, Jesse had collected his lighter from the table after everyone had pulled out of the drive and the brothers stood in front of an old metal barrel behind the barn.

Henry sighed lowly, holding another small box as they waited for the papers to light. He only commented briefly in caution. "Remember you can't burn a whole stack of papers, it doesn't catch..."

"I know."

In the gathering dark of the evening, Henry watched orange light flicker over Jesse's face and was struck with the memory of the beach vacation years before, when they'd eaten s'mores with Ruth and took some time away for themselves. They'd teased each other over personal habits and ridiculous things like horseshoe crabs...

Now Jesse's expression was tense, brows drawn together and eyes hard as he stared in to the burn pit that would need cleaning out soon. "I shouldn't have wrecked." He muttered as he scratched at the back of his head.

"There was nothing you could've done differently."

"Except _not wreck_." He reiterated with a pointed look.

"Jesse, come on..."

"I should have been able to avoid it, shouldn't I? I mean if I'm really such a great-"

"Don't." Henry warned in a harsh tone. "Do not let them gaslight you."

"Doesn't matter anyway." Jesse muttered. "They still got what they wanted."

* * *

"Have you even put any practice time in with the new car?" Emily asked, looking up from her final task of the afternoon before the season officially started.

"Nah." Alex kicked the heel of one shoe against the toe of the other. "Never really did with the other one either."

She didn't reply, only raising a brow and shrugging a shoulder as she put the last folder away and began to straighten up her desk.

"You heard, right?"

Emily didn't need clarification, and only looked toward her brother as she reached for her things to get ready to go home. With the last of her own work done, she was planning on taking a long weekend off. Karen had been able to pick up a few things fairly quickly, and Emily could wait until after the first race of the season was in the books before returning to the office.

She didn't intend to go to the race, if she had more time she might have booked a plane ticket but three days would turn in to two days travel time if she even considered Arizona.

"Of course I heard. Who hasn't?"

"I saw him in the parking lot that afternoon."

"You mean you waited around."

He shrugged, and she felt her patience for the conversation fading.

"It's going to be a great season."

"Well I'm certainly glad you think so." She muttered before collecting her purse and gesturing for him to leave the room, so she could lock up and go home.

* * *

Henry paused getting out of the truck and pinched the bridge of his nose after he'd closed the door. The key ring felt heavy in his pocket, and he fished out the beaten keys to glance over before starting for the press box. He'd had to collect a single key from Jesse, and the brass colored metal was cold in his hand as he remembered Jesse's biting comment as he'd thrown it on the table.

 _They can choke on it._

"Henry."

He paused and looked up to find whoever had said his name to see Moore coming out of the maintenance areas.

"I can take care of that. You might get stuck waiting a while to see anyone if you went up to the office."

"I imagine you're pretty busy."

The season opening race might not be at Thomasville, but everything still needed to be in order before they made it to the weekend.

"Very." Joe commented diplomatically.

Without ceremony, Henry held the key ring out and then Jesse's key, explaining that he kept them separate so there wouldn't be confusion for whoever took them back.

Joe nodded and caught a maintenance worker as they passed, commenting to make sure each key was cataloged before taken back to the safe.

Glancing over Joe's shoulder, Henry realized the wall of keys had been consolidated. The keys they'd nicked some years ago most likely were stored away shortly after that little stunt...

Joe shook his head slowly when the maintenance man nodded and left, still out-of-place standing in the dirt in a black suit and polished shoes, hands in his pockets as he lowered his voice. "Henry, I really-"

"We get it." He cut the administrator off. "We're not happy, but we do get it."

"They shouldn't have corralled him in to-"

He knew Joe meant well, the same way _everyone_ meant well when they brought up the same argument. _Jesse shouldn't have been made to go through all that. They should have listened and given him more time. Even without Kingsley, he could have gotten another sponsor. If only there'd been more time._

"I know, Joe. _We_ know. Why do you think I'm here alone?"

Jesse didn't want anything to do with the track. He hadn't looked at the Hornet in days.

Joe only nodded slowly with a look of understanding and after a moment reached out and patted Henry's arm. "I'm sorry, Henry, but I can't-"

He raised a hand to wave it off. As an admin, Joe was busy, and Henry wasn't sticking around anyway. "Might catch you in town sometime."

"If I ever have car troubles I know where to bring it."

Henry grinned as they parted, but his expression soured as soon as he'd turned back toward his truck.

The Hornet wasn't the only vehicle no longer being used as much. The trailer had been left alongside the barn for months and wouldn't need moving for a long time. He'd undone the hitch on his pickup and thrown it in the back where it slid around the bed whenever he made a sharp turn. Instead of a work truck, it was now just a personal vehicle, retired and no longer in need of its previous service.

With that thought, he paused, looking up toward the track before jumping from the driver's seat again and running to catch up with Moore.

"Joe!"

Joe turned and looked him over questioningly before meeting his eyes, a little startled when Henry reached out and held his upper arm.

"I have one request."

"Okay...?"

Henry's voice lowered, sounding stern as he looked in either direction before meeting the other's eyes. "I want that number retired. I don't care what it takes, what it might cost, or what has to be done. I don't want #51 out there."

Joe only regarded him in silence a moment before nodding slowly and muttering. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"Did you see?"

Henry threw his jacket on the kitchen table and rolled his neck. Couldn't he at least get in the door before Jesse jumped all over him? He glanced toward the coffee pot to see that it was half full and ignored his brother momentarily while hunting down his favorite coffee cup. If they were going to go on another one of their rants, he'd at least like to have that going for him...

"Did I see what?" He finally asked in a resigned tone, holding the coffee cup up when Jesse slapped the magazine down on the counter.

Piston Cup's publication was still being sent to the house, with as quickly as their lives had changed they hadn't had time to see about canceling the subscription yet.

"#92!" Jesse hissed, his hand on the glossy page blocking the image until he backed away from the counter. "Kingsley's new driver!"

Henry leaned forward, away from where he was leaned back near the coffee maker to get a better look at what Jesse wanted him to see. It was like any other Piston Cup advertisement, bright colors and large letters. In the middle of the page, was a pearl gray 1954 Hudson Hornet.

With Jesse's paint job.

"What...?"

"He's using _my image_ to promote his new pet project!"

Henry picked up the folded magazine to get a better look, reading every little phrase and blurb. He set his jaw, putting his coffee aside to hold the publication in both hands. His voice was grim. "You see the kid's name?"

"No..."

"Piston Cup welcomes 1955 rookie, Robert Sinclaire, in the #92 Hudson Hornet." He set the magazine back down, watching as Jesse stared at the image for a moment silently.

The Hornet in the ad may have been gray, but the lettering, and styling of _Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ was his.

It was _his._

What really set Henry off, was the endorsement name of _Smokey's_ on the front fenders.

They'd personally been kicked to the curb, but their names were apparently good enough to use.

The offices were closed, otherwise he'd already be in the truck on his way back in to town.

Someone would be getting backed in to a corner, he didn't care who it was at that point. Someone was going to answer for the stab to the back, and for the absolutely broken look and betrayal in Jesse's eyes.

Henry collected the magazine from the counter and tossed it in to the trash, turning back to see Jesse was still staring at the counter where it had lain.

"We'll get this sorted out."

"It's too late..."

"It's not too-"

"It's too late!" Jesse raked a hand through his hair, scoffing. "Henry, they've _printed_ it." He gestured to the trash can. "You can't take things like that back without muddying the waters even more. We _lost._ _I_ lost! My title's been taken by some kid who probably knows _nothing_ of his car, but because he's got _my paint job_ everyone will love him, and he's got his dad's name and Kingsley's sponsorship and-!" He stopped short, defeated and looked toward his brother with tears in his eyes. "It's too late..."

"Jesse."

Jesse shook his head, blinking rapidly and fighting to keep his lower lip from trembling. He was a grown man, he wasn't going to cry.

It was just a car and a paint job. So what. They could do whatever they wanted.

"You should go home." He muttered with lowered brows. "I have that doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, remember? I should probably get some sleep..."

The sudden change in topic nearly gave Henry whiplash, but Jesse was right. They'd been contacted by Dr. Horner's office, having received word and recommendation from Dr. Lang that Jesse may need a more thorough follow up.

"Alright...what time should I be here?"

Jesse sniffed faintly, dumping the coffee and rinsing out the pot. "Appointment's at 9:30, so should leave here by 8:45..."

"Then I'll be here for 8:30."

Jesse nodded faintly, returning the coffee pot to the maker and turned around to lean his back against the counter. His eyes narrowed briefly as he looked about the kitchen. "Where's-?"

Henry paused in gathering his things, watching Jesse with concern at the half formed question. "Where's what?"

"Nothing..." Jesse murmured, complexion nearly ashen, but he forced a faint grin. "It's just been a bad few days..."

"You alright?"

"Yeah...I'll be fine..."

"I can stay."

"I don't need you to stay." He muttered weakly.

Henry paused in the doorway, still hesitant to leave, especially with whatever little episode Jesse had just had, along with the look on his face. "Alright...I'll be here in the morning..."

Jesse forced a grin again as they said their good nights and closed the door behind him as Henry left. Listening to the Hudson pickup's engine idle and then fade as it left the driveway, he rest his forehead against the door frame as the tears he'd held back finally began to fall.

They'd taken his title for their use without permission. He'd been pushed aside for some rich man's spoiled son. He'd given the best of himself for a sport that didn't care.

His head hurt, his chest ached and though he hadn't told anyone, he still had moments of confusion or loss of certain memories.

Memory loss was one thing, but when those lost moments came back they took him out at the knees.

He'd nearly asked Henry where Ruth was.

He'd forgotten she was gone.

* * *

 **AN: D:**

 **The #92 Hudson Hornet actually belonged to Herb Thomas. Multiple Hornets raced in the '50s with the same nickname.**


	58. Left Behind

**AN: It has been a _looong_ couple of months, and the upcoming months are about to get very busy. I doubt this fic will be finished before the end of the year, but I'm willing to say it will be before February.**

* * *

 **June 1955**

Weeks passed, and the weather had finally begun to feel like early summer in Georgia. They gathered on the back porch at the homestead, but this time there were no jeering comments over the upcoming season. There were no debates over who would be dominating that year.

Jesse's appointment with Dr. Horner had gone no differently than he had expected it to, and the comments of _you just need more time_ lingered at the back of his thoughts even as he broke the quiet of the group.

"Where you at tomorrow?" He ashed the cigarette in his hand and glanced back up at River sitting across from him. As River replied, he caught himself staring past his friend's shoulder toward the garden. It most likely wouldn't get planted that year.

"Rocker Arms, I think?" River commented with a questioning look to the others, receiving nods and murmurs of agreement.

"That's usually a late season race." Jesse muttered thoughtfully while crushing the cigarette in the ash tray.

"We'll be there twice this year." Lou spoke up.

Jesse wrinkled his nose with a look between the others before leaning back in his chair and tilting it back on to two legs. "Watch the surface going in to turn three. You'll want to stay low."

"Now you tell us these things."

"You think I was going to mention that two years ago?" He raised a brow, hands clasped behind his head.

"Well no. I guess not."

Their cars were lined up in the drive, paint jobs finished for the season. The color schemes were no different than previous years, but something didn't feel right. Jesse realized they were already over a month in to the season. While he sorted himself out, and Henry planned to reopen the garage, figuring out their new normal, the others had begun traveling up and down the east coast again.

A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he glanced at his watch before letting the chair fall back on to four legs. "If you're at Rocker Arms, you'll have to leave this afternoon."

Junior nodded. "We were going to be leaving right from here."

"Well after stopping at the track." River corrected.

"Right, I forgot."

Jesse honestly didn't care what they were doing or why they'd have to stop at Thomasville Speedway. They still needed to be out of town and that's the point he was trying to get at.

"Well, I have to go in to town." He stood and stretched, cuing the others that their visit was over. "You don't want to be on the road too late, anyway."

With quiet goodbyes, they parted ways. Jesse had waved briefly before stepping inside to grab a few things before closing up the house and bounding down the steps. The Hornet's paint job was newer than any of the other Piston Cup vehicles that had just left, but blue didn't hold a candle to the others without a number emblazoned on the sides.

* * *

With most of his errands out of the way quickly, he stood patiently at the front counter of The Merch. It wasn't uncommon to be left waiting, considering it was only the one man running the business on his own. It wasn't as if Jesse were pressed for time. He rocked on his toes, looking about the shelves behind the counter and the penny candies in the glass beneath the counter. They hadn't changed variety from the time he was a kid, root beer barrels sat exactly where they always had, and licorice string on the other side.

There was a commotion outside, car horns blaring, and Jesse glanced over his shoulder before turning slightly to see out the picture windows.

Lou, River, and Junior must have just left the track and were leaving town officially for the weekend. Thomasville had the habit of sending their racers off in style. The town's pride in the sport had tripled in the last five years and Jesse had grown used to being part of that send off down main street.

He only turned away from the windows again, drumming his fingers along the counter top in front of him. The front door opened with a faint ring of the bell attached at the top as the usual group of local men returned to their spots.

"Scott looks good this year, be keeping a closer eye I think."

"I haven't been keeping up lately. Nice to hear someone's-"

"Jesse, what can I do for you?" The store clerk cut off any more discussion between the others as he rounded the counter.

"Just here to pick up my order, sir."

"You boys are doing alright?" Mr. Washburn asked with sincerity as he began placing items on the counter.

"Fine. Thank you."

He could tell the other men present had suddenly realized who he was and pulled him in to their continuing conversation. "Hudson. When are you getting back out there?"

Jesse only glanced in their direction briefly, forcing a tight grin as he reached for his wallet. "Not soon enough."

"You were the only one I ever put money on, kid. I haven't been making money since last summer."

"I'm working on it, Mr. Rhodes." He replied dully. Looking in the direction of the gentlemen at the far table, he missed the look on the store clerk's face, who was shaking his head in warning to the men questioning.

"We miss seein' that paint job out there."

"Yeah." Jesse's voice softened, hoping his distraction would seem natural as he pulled the correct amount of bills from his wallet. "I do too."

"Nicer than that silver one they've tried to pass lately."

He met eyes briefly with Washburn as he handed his money over the counter, and the look of understanding made him feel ill. He'd gotten the same look when his mother died, when Ruth died, and now after his career had died.

Somehow, Mr. Washburn knew, it didn't matter how, just that he knew.

"I'm sorry, Jesse." He muttered lowly, pushing the paper bags forward.

Jesse blinked a few times, staring at the groceries silently before nodding his head once. "Yeah." He looked up to meet the man's eyes before collecting the bags and holding them in front of himself. "Me too."

He passed the other men without a word and used his back to push the door open, setting the paper bags on the trunk of the Hornet so he could get the door open.

Both men at the table had looked toward each other in bemusement once he'd left, before shaking their heads and chuckling lowly.

"You'd think I'd said something wrong."

* * *

"When are you opening the garage back up?"

"Sometime next week, maybe?" Henry shrugged a shoulder. "Put up a few ads in town, but have no intentions of giving myself a full work week."

"You put one in The Merch."

"I did. Why?"

Fireflies danced along the bushes and landscape work they'd finished recently, flashes of green light in the purple hour just before night swept in. The Hudson vehicles were all that were left in the drive, silent and cold from lack of use, he vaguely noticed a rabbit at the edge of the garden and watched it a moment before turning his attention back on his brother.

"Washburn shared his condolences."

Henry huffed lowly and stared back out over the yard. "Probably going to be getting a lot of that in the next few weeks."

He wasn't expecting Jesse to respond, so the following silence that settled over them wasn't concerning. After a few moments, he tossed what was left of his drink over the railing. "Could use your help when I do get started again. It would give you something to do."

Jesse finally looked away from the yard and the fireflies, looking across the table toward his brother in the gathering darkness. "Yeah. I'll think about it."

* * *

"I heard your brother got caught up in some trouble at the last race."

Emily didn't look up from the work in front of her. "I haven't asked for specifics, but it doesn't surprise me. He knows nothing about his car."

Her assistant, Karen, lowered her brows in bemusement. "That can't be-"

"Oh it is." Emily cut her off, looking up finally. "When he only drives it once a week.

In the silence that followed, she could hear the unasked question of why that should make any kind of difference.

"I might not know cars, but I know Piston Cup."

"How long have you been doing this?"

She tapped the pen on the desk, and pulled the form closer to herself when she caught the other girl trying to read it upside down. "This will be my fifth year."

"Is it easy to pick up?"

Emily shrugged a shoulder, abandoning what she'd been working on and sliding it in to the top drawer of her desk. "I might be a special case. I was present for a lot of the groundwork going in to place." She crossed her arms and lent her elbows on the polished surface. "I was there when the bylaws were made official, and honestly when the majority of the rules were put in to place. It's easier when you're part of the process. In my opinion anyway."

"It just seems like a lot to take in."

"All you have to worry about is knowing your numbers and how to file things in alphabetical order."

"What if I mess something up?"

"Someone will catch it and make you aware, trust me." Her brows lowered in thought briefly, and she reached back in to the drawer of her desk for the paper she'd previously put away. "Besides, you'll have some good practice while I'm away."

"How long were you going for?"

"A week or so. I'll be back for the fourth of July."

"I wish I could just hop a plane to Arizona." Karen muttered a little melodramatically and pouted on her side of the desk.

Emily folded the paper in her hand, staring at her bag. "It does have its perks."


	59. You're Not the Only One

**AN: I've been mulling this chapter over a lot recently and would like to get it posted before I get too busy.**

* * *

Emily brushed stray lint away and straightened her skirt as she sat behind her desk with a polite smile, tilting her chin up questioningly as she spoke. "What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclaire?"

The elder man removed the black fedora as he'd passed through the doorway, a touch more stylish than his business partner Joseph Kingsley. He let the hat down gently on the chair beside him before replying to Emily's question.

"Well, Miss Piston, as you're aware, there is one team driving a Hudson Hornet this season."

"I am aware, yes." She glanced to where he had left the hat and back up to meet his gaze.

"Hudson may not be a singular company any longer, but the popularity has remained the same."

Emily offered a look of bemusement. "I'm afraid I can't agree, Mr. Sinclaire."

"No?"

"If Hudson Motor Car Company were doing as well as they had been only two or three years ago, then there wouldn't have been a reason for a three company merger in the first place."

Sinclaire grinned faintly, tapping his knuckles against the edge of the desk. "You're a smart girl. I see your father's taught you well."

"Some, not all." She crossed her arms, she knew she was capable of coming to her own conclusions.

"Right." He finally conceded, moving his hat and sitting in the chair it had occupied. "With that being said." He drawled somewhat as he sat across from her. "We'd like to try our hand in bringing the name back in to the spotlight." He crossed his legs, resting clasped hands over his knee, and Emily couldn't help but notice the ridiculous dress socks he wore.

"Well, I'm afraid all I am capable of in that capacity, Mr. Sinclaire, is to wish you luck."

"I believe you can do more than that, Miss Piston."

She only raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. She'd never been involved in this kind of dealing. She'd never been approached by anyone looking to make some form of business deal. While she wasn't sure what exactly was going to be brought to the table, she was uncomfortable in the feeling that began to creep in. Before he'd had the chance to explain himself, she'd gotten the distinct sense that the only reason they were even speaking was because Sinclaire assumed she would be too oblivious to possibly reject whatever he was going to request.

"No one associates the current colors with Hudson Motors, or the current team number."

"You'd like to apply for a number change."

"I would, and because the number fifty-"

There it was...

"Fifty-one is retired." She cut him off quickly.

"The driver, yes, but-"

"No, Mr. Sinclaire." She corrected a little more sternly. "When the fifty-one, Fabulous Hudson Hornet team was removed from the line up, that included the team number as well. Fifty-one belongs solely to the individuals it's known for."

The man had steepled his fingers as she replied, and eyed her with skepticism. "So there is no way of retrieving that number?"

"If it's a number that you think will gain popularity with patrons of Piston Cup, Mr. Sinclaire, I'm afraid to inform you it is not the case. The number belongs to someone else."

There was an uneasy silence that descended over her office, and she was sure the man was going to attempt another angle. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as they stared at each other over the desk. Speaking up in a crowded room was one thing, but meeting a man as powerful as Sinclaire one on one was another story. She was sure he was going to fight to get his way.

He went to stand, and Emily watched him warily, back straight in her chair as her eyes followed the man's movements.

"Yes." He finally spoke, retrieving his hat. "I suppose it does."

Sinclaire left her office without another word, and Emily nearly deflated with a low sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose before straightening again finally. Her former high spirits faded quickly, and with a glance up toward the clock she reminded herself that she only had a few more hours left of the day, and before the end of the week she'd be in Arizona.

"Next week can't come soon enough..." She muttered to herself.

* * *

"Jesse, you coming or not?"

Henry waited at the bottom of the steps, staring in the direction of the kitchen before calling again. "Jesse?"

Looking up toward the railing, he sighed and started up the stairs, stopping at the kid's door and nudging it open a crack.

He hesitated a moment, looking over his brother's sleeping form and debated on leaving him there to sleep a little longer or attempt waking him again. Jesse could always catch up with him later in the morning, he wasn't so pressed for time that he couldn't let Jesse have a few more hours of sleep. It would probably be beneficial.

Against his own judgment, he spoke up anyway. "Hey. Jesse."

All he received was a tired groan from the bed.

"Look, you used to be up at four in the morning."

"I had a reason to be up at four in the morning..."

Henry shrugged faintly, that was true, and with the injuries over the last year it had thrown the poor kid's sleep in to such a spiral that there was nothing really _normal_ anymore. He waited a few more moments in silence before speaking again. "Are you coming down to the garage later, or what?"

"What time is it?"

"Time to be up." He raised a brow at the response he got, a few harsh words, and he pulled the door partly closed to block whatever had been thrown. "Well it is. Lucky for you, Momma's not around to see you acting this way."

Jesse stared at the window sill from where he lay on his side, the morning light too bright to look directly outside until his eyes adjusted. When his gaze shifted, he noticed it must have rained overnight, rain dripped from the leaves and clung in droplets to the window.

"I'm opening in half an hour."

"I'll be there..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He sat up suddenly and straightened his hair, waiting for the room to stop spinning. "What else am I gunna do on a race day?"

* * *

He could have spent the entire day holed up at the homestead, and there was a part of him that wished he had. With the 1955 race schedule so different from previous years, he hadn't known that week's race would be in Thomasville. The fact that no one had felt the need to share that little bit of information stung, and Jesse would periodically frown to himself whenever he could hear the rumble of engines echoing through town. As much as he tried to distract himself, he'd catch himself wondering what lap they were on, what turn the field might have been rounding, and who was leading.

He'd been so distracted that he hadn't realized how much he'd been snapping at his brother, and before the end of the afternoon it had escalated to a breaking point.

"Jesse, look, I know you're upse-"

"Upset doesn't even begin to-"

"Will you let me finish?" Henry snapped, tossing a tool aside to face him fully.

Jesse only eyed him sullenly, bracing for an argument they'd both known would happen the moment they'd left the Piston Cup offices over a month ago.

"You're upset, I get that. What they did was wrong, and we're left cleaning up the mess they've left us with."

"They didn't even give us a chance. They didn't give _me_ a chance! Henry, how am I supposed to just-!"

"You move on, Jesse. There's nothing that can-"

"I don't _want_ to just-"

They had devolved in to tense, biting, comments, and it was Henry who finally ended it. His expression was grim, slamming the hood of the car closed before turning to stand in front of Jesse. "You may feel like it, but you are _not_ the only one who has ever lost something."

Jesse's teeth clamped together painfully, glaring with a defiant expression. Henry could mean any number of things, their father, their mother, Ruth, or just their current situation, but Jesse knew it wasn't what he was alluding to.

All through his teens, Henry had been the favorite of multiple local ball teams, and before his last year of school, he'd already been scouted and contacted by a number of different people. His own dream growing up had been to play, and the very nickname of _Smokey_ had come from a game where the opposing team hadn't been able to get in a single hit while he was on the pitcher's mound. For weeks afterward, town had been abuzz with the same comments. _Did you hear about the game? Hudson smoked 'em._

Jesse could remember long afternoons sitting on metal bleachers. Their mother, Ruth, and himself watching tournaments, double headers and extra innings.

Then their mother had gotten ill.

For years, they'd made things work and Henry continuously put his own plans on the back burner. He'd held off school, opening the garage to bring in extra money and ignoring the letters from different schools and announcements for tryouts. The garage had become routine and the letters piled in the corner of the kitchen counter.

Then their mother had died.

At twenty-two, Henry hadn't put any thought in to pursuing his own personal goals anymore. He was older than other boys who had started, and with years working under a hood, his arm just wasn't what it had been, but the letters kept coming.

He'd continued to ignore them, because with their mother's death, the state had threatened to remove the twins from the homestead. Henry had done everything in his power to keep them together and in the house they had grown up in. The twins would have never known, except they'd found a court summons in the stack of mail one afternoon. It had been scheduled for the same day of the local tryouts they'd persuaded him to attend.

He'd told them that evening that it hadn't worked out, he didn't have the athleticism anymore.

They'd never told him they knew.

Henry had given up his personal dream to be there for his siblings, he'd done everything he could for Ruth, and had made sure to help Jesse attain his own dreams. Now they were both picking up the shattered pieces of their lives.

Jesse's expression hardened, glancing past Henry's shoulder and hissing as he turned away. "Son of a-"

"You _watch your mouth!_ " Henry cut him off, under the impression that Jesse was addressing him. He grabbed at the front of Jesse's shirt.

"I'm not talking to you." Jesse shoved him away, stepping around him to look through the dirty window of the garage door before turning back to put his tools away.

Seeing where Jesse's attention had been, Henry looked to see what was going on and muttered under his breath before heaving the door up.

Alexander Piston stood in the lot just before the entrance, hands on his hips and eyes hidden behind sunglasses similar to Jesse's until he removed them and looked about the establishment, squinting against the sun.

It was a hot, June afternoon, in Georgia. The Hudson brothers were grimy, tired, and worn out. Henry knew they probably looked a mess, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

"Can, I help you, Piston?"

"Your brother, Jessie, around?"

"That's not my name." Jesse answered dully as he came to stand beside his brother.

Alex only shrugged lightly, looking about the garage again. "Heard this was the best place around, thought I'd check it out, with the race having been here today and all."

"Checking up on us, you mean."

Alex shrugged again. "If you're not racing, at least you're still around cars right? Take what you can get, Hudson?"

Henry worked his jaw in irritation, whatever argument they may have been having before was forgotten. Jesse knew cars just about as well as he did, he always wanted his work checked but there had never been any glaring mistakes.

Jesse was meant to be behind a wheel, not just under a hood.

"Is there a purpose to this visit or are you just here to waste our time?"

Alex raised both hands appeasingly. "They said you're the best around, I just wanted to see for myself."

"You should know better than that, Piston." Jesse replied airily. "Or don't you remember the last four years."

"Things have changed though, Hudson. I'm the one still holding a set of keys to my practice track and scheduling practice times."

"You're really a good for nothing pompous little ru-"

"Jesse." Henry stepped in front of him, blocking his path from reaching Alex. With his back to his brother, he addressed the Piston Cup driver in a level but threatening tone. "We don't service Piston Cup sanctioned vehicles, or don't you know your own rules."

The regulation had been passed that vehicles could only be worked on by the team owning the vehicle, or in special circumstances, a garage that was approved by the team sponsor as well as officials.

"I just thought you might need the business."

" _I'll go hungry before I ever-_ "

"Jesse."

They didn't need the business. He could close up Smokey's Garage if he were so inclined, but the fact was it kept them busy.

It was a distraction.

The parking lot was lined with vehicles that needed work, because no one could beat Henry's prices. He didn't need that place to make a living.

"As kind as the offer is." Henry started facetiously. "I'm afraid we're just gunna have to turn it down."

"Don't say I didn't offer."

"Of course not." He grinned and adjusted his ball cap before turning back toward the garage, eyeing Jesse knowingly. Just ignore him and he'll leave...

He knew it was harder for Jesse to turn away than it was for him, but there was a grim satisfaction in seeing the kid take his lead and go back to work. When Piston couldn't get a rise out of them, he'd returned to his vehicle and left the lot.

"His car sounds awful."

"We'll have to ask the others where he placed..."

Silence followed, not even the radio playing in the background. An occasional buzzing could be heard as an insect flew too close to their ears and they waved it away. Finally, Jesse straightened from where he'd been leaning over the grill of a vehicle. His back couldn't take long stretches of work like this...

"Henry, look...I-"

Henry only clapped his shoulder with one hand, collecting stray tools with the other. "Don't, Jesse. Don't worry about it. I know."

Did he?

Jesse only huffed a low sigh and nodded faintly.

"It's four-thirty. I'm not stretching this to five. You wanna get home and cleaned up before Joan and I stop over?"

"Yeah...five-thirty?"

Henry nodded as he organized the tools in the rolling cart. "What do you want?"

"Usual." Diner food at home beat a bunch of Piston Cup drivers at The Cotter Pin any night...

"You go on ahead." Henry gestured with a wrench. "We'll be there in an hour or so."

They'd parted ways for the brief amount of time, and while cleaning up the house a bit before they arrived, Jesse couldn't help but think of how much their lives had changed in the last few years.


	60. Alone

**July 1955**

"Miss Piston?"

Emily grinned faintly as she passed through the doorway to her own office, nodding faintly to Karen's unasked question. "Just stopping in before catching my flight."

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No." She shook her head, collecting a few trinkets from the bookcase behind her desk. "I just wanted to speak to my father before leaving."

"Okay." Karen watched her and smiled briefly when they met eyes. "Enjoy your time away."

"I will. Thank you."

Emily closed the door behind her, breathing a low sigh once in the hallway as she made her way to her father's office. She hadn't originally intended to stop at the main offices before leaving for Arizona, but as her cab had been early that morning and traveling through the city, she'd asked that they make the detour long enough for her to step in and spend some time with her father. She'd promised the driver that she wouldn't be too long, and that if he no longer was willing to wait if she did get caught up, she'd be willing to let him leave her luggage in the lobby where she could call for another cab.

She realized he'd be working in the larger office upstairs and passed the doorway she'd been originally heading for. Passing familiar faces, she greeted other administration politely on her walk, and took her time in making her way up the staircase. She let her hand trail over the polished wood of the banister and paused to stare out the picture window in the stairwell, down in to the court yard that had been finished the previous autumn. The click of her heels on the steps echoed through the empty passage until she pushed the door open to the third floor, re-entering the hustle of mid season Piston Cup offices.

An administrator for one of the newer tracks stopped short upon seeing her, asking if there was anything they could do for her, and once again she grinned politely before turning the offer down. "I'm afraid not." She paused, trying to remember his name before continuing. "Do you know if my father is free?"

"He is." The young man informed. "I just left his office."

She nodded, stepping forward and paused with her hand on the door knob. She looked back at him quickly. "Could you see to it that no one disrupts us?"

He blinked a few times before nodding faintly and taking a seat on one of the benches near the door.

Emily thanked him before closing the door behind her. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped in to the office. "Good morning, Daddy."

Edward glanced up from the work before him. "Good morning, my dear. I thought your flight was-?"

"I booked for the later one." She replied while stepping toward the window and looking down to the main parking lot. Tilting her head, she frowned to see that the cab was already gone. Not that it affected her too much, she just hoped all of her luggage was waiting safely in the lobby.

She had more time than most people in the offices were aware of, and she spent a good portion of the morning with her father, helping him organize some things in an attempt to help him catch up. She felt bad for leaving the administrator in the hall, but this was important.

Looking toward the clock, she knew she'd need to call for another cab, or if there was time, see if her father might even get her to the airport. Biting her lip, she turned to retrieve her things and reached in to her bag.

"Daddy, I need to give this to you."

He looked up once again, his expression becoming concerned at the evident distress in her eyes. "Emily, what is it?"

She blinked back tears, holding the folded paper in front of herself before passing it to him. "I'm giving you my resignation."

Edward took the paper from her, and without unfolding it, he set it on the desk as he stood from his chair. He couldn't say he was that surprised with her decision, but seeing her upset wouldn't do. "Oh, my dear."

She looked up at him, lips pursed as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just can't-"

"Don't be sorry." He wrapped his arms around her. "Dont ever be sorry."

Emily dried her eyes hastily. "I don't want to let you down."

"You could never." He stepped back and held her cheek with one hand. "I won't accept until I know you're sure."

She nodded.

He told her to take an extended stay, he knew how much she loved being on the western side of the country, but he knew how much she loved being involved with the sport as well. He'd never hold a resignation against her, but he wouldn't accept her letter until he knew she was satisfied with her decision.

"Tell everyone hello."

"I will."

"Call when your flight lands, no matter the time."

She'd agreed, and they said their goodbyes. Without an explanation to anyone in the lobby, Emily called for another cab and made sure her ticket was correct.

* * *

He sat at the top of the front porch steps because he couldn't stomach the sight of the untilled garden out back. Wearing an old white undershirt, Jesse sat in the sun. By now he shouldn't be so ridiculously pale. In years past he would've already beaten Henry, but he'd spent so much time in doors he now scowled at his reflection in the mirror every morning. He looked sickly, by his own standards. No one else had mentioned it, but he probably would've snapped at them if they had...

Maybe if he sat there long enough to get a bit of a burn, let the sun kiss the bridge of his nose and turn his cheeks a little red. Maybe he wouldn't look so gaunt, so hollow...

With his eyes closed, Jesse concentrated on the sounds of summer. Birds sang in the trees overhead, lively and jovial, somewhere a woodpecker was boring a hole in a tree down past the turn in the lane, and under it all was the sound of the morning breeze.

If he concentrated hard enough, the rustling of the leaves could sound like ocean waves.

They hammered against the shore, rhythmic, powerful and calming. He could almost see the blue water and white sand.

Henry and Ruth's voices a low murmur in the background.

His brows lowered at the sound of an engine.

Cars didn't belong on beaches. Nothing good ever came of that.

He opened his eyes to see a yellow Packard convertible making the turn on the dirt road that passed the Hudson homestead. His illusion of the shore shattered at the sight of dirt kicking up behind the vehicle.

"Oh...this oughtta be good..."

An immaculate 1940 model, the chrome shining, and paint job nearly white in the early sun. Jesse squinted, standing from his spot and moved to stand at the bottom of the steps as the vehicle slowed to a stop. He shoved a hand in his back pocket, leaning at a jaunty angle and looped a thumb through the belt loop on his jeans.

"Howdy, son."

"Morning."

"You know where I could find Henry Hudson? Stopped at his garage but no one was there."

Jesse looked the man over briefly, white dress shirt, black vest and sleeve garters, dress coat thrown over the passenger seat. He didn't recognize the man, but he didn't need to.

"He's closed today."

"He here?"

Jesse couldn't quite place the man's age, but it seemed that anyone over fifty, who dressed the way the man currently was, was surely involved with Piston Cup. He let his gaze drift over the car, making the man wait before finally glancing back up with a nod and stepping back. "Must be important, coming all the way from the big city and all." He didn't wait for a response, bouncing up the steps in to the house and catching his brother as he'd been leaving the kitchen.

"Someone with Piston wants to see you."

"What?"

Jesse only shrugged, gesturing over his shoulder with a look at the door. He turned but didn't follow his brother back outside, able to hear just enough of the conversation through the screen door. His expression hardened, glaring at the man standing at the bottom of the steps in the sunlight. Only hearing parts of the conversation, he pieced the rest together through their body language. Henry had his arms crossed, turning back toward the house as he shook his head. The older man attempting to stall him.

"You have my answer." Was the last thing Jesse heard as he left the living room. "Don't come back."

Henry let the screen door slap against the frame and kicked the front door closed behind him, jaw set as he entered the kitchen.

Jesse stood with his back against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles as he dumped cold coffee in to the sink behind him and set the cup down with a dull thunk. "Should've accepted."

"What?"

Jesse gestured to the front door, the Packard already gone. He flicked his Zippo shut before pointing again, cigarette held between two fingers. "They came crawling around here asking for your help. You should've said yes."

"Why would I do that?" Henry eyed him in wary confusion before looking toward the coffee pot and moving to brew a fresh pot.

Jesse only huffed lowly, pulling an ashtray closer before looking over his brother's profile and replying. "Because you enjoy it. It's good money."

"This has nothing to do with money." Henry only paused long enough to look at him.

Jesse only stared vacantly in to the living room. "They're not doing as well as they expected..."

"No." Henry agreed, collecting the paper from the counter to go outside. "And I have no desire to give them any support."

The screen door to the back porch slammed this time, and Jesse was left in the kitchen where he continued to stare in to the living room.

* * *

He'd begun avoiding town. He helped in the garage, but was already growing tired of people stopping in to _see how they were doing_. It was the people of Thomasville being nosy, and nothing more.

Word had made its way around that Jesse Hudson wasn't a Piston racer anymore, and if he received another look of sympathy when all he wanted was to stop at the post office or try to catch up with the others at The Cotter Pin, someone was going to lose some teeth.

He'd been asked if he needed a job. He'd been asked if there was _anything_ he needed. His reply had been that if he were given a dollar every time someone posed those two questions he'd be better off financially than he'd ever been as The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

Now he was just Jesse Hudson. The kid who lived alone at the end of the lane, and had a nice car.

He'd forced himself in to town to catch up with the others, and had spent a few hours at their usual table at The Cotter Pin, listening uncomfortably to conversations revolving around their week, sitting across from a kid he didn't know who'd begun to tag along after races. He'd had nothing to contribute to the conversation, unless Lou, River, and Junior had wanted to hear about the three hour job on a car he and Henry had been handed that Friday...

He hadn't been able to stomach his meal and had taken it home with him. Throwing it on the counter, he looked about the empty homestead. The only light being where he stood in the kitchen.

He couldn't stand it.

His old helmet sat on the table where it had remained untouched for weeks, the counter was still lined with the crocks that Ruth would store her baking ingredients. Everywhere he looked there was a reminder of what was gone.

Jesse left the kitchen, stalking through the house and flipping light switches on as he entered different rooms. Upending a box hastily, he shoved some of his personal items in to the bottom. He continued room to room, wanting to get as much as he could out of his immediate line of sight, working systematically through the house. Before long, the kitchen table was covered. His Piston Cups took up the most room, his jacket, newspapers, gifts from Henry, Ruth and their parents. Some of Ruth's favorite projects had been stacked carefully to the side, more care being taken in those than with his trophies.

He stood with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as he glared at the few boxes he'd collected. He snatched the keys from the counter and walked quickly to the Hornet, turning and backing to the bottom of the steps and popping the trunk.

He'd just throw everything in the barn, just get it somewhere where he couldn't see it.

Jesse jumped out of the Hornet and ran up the steps, taking a few trips back and forth in to the house to move everything to the trunk. Most of it fit in to a few boxes, but they became so heavy he could only handle one at a time.

Carrying as much as he could on his last trip, he felt a few items slipping from his grasp and in his frustration dropped everything at the bottom of the steps. The 1951 Piston Cup rolled in a half circle until one of the large wings on the side kept it from moving any further, and he glared at the gold-plated piece. Breathing heavily, he jumped forward and grabbed the trophy around the thin stem-like section of the piston and flung it as hard as he could, his own shout of frustration drowning out the hollow thud it made as it fell again in to the dirt and clanked against the rim of a whitewall tire.

Whitewalls, not dirt tires...

"What do I even want this for? It was all for nothing. Nothing!"

He'd entered his first race out of desperation, using what little money he'd had left in hopes of getting out there on a track and use his talent to help provide for his sister.

He wasn't allowed to set foot on a track.

Ruth was buried in the Baptist Church cemetery.

His eyes stung, but he wasn't going to cry.

He wasn't.

Jesse knelt slowly and retrieved everything he had dropped, placing it all strategically to fit in the trunk before slamming it shut. Walking back up the steps, he turned slowly and looked back down over the yard. The Hornet was immaculate, showing no sign of having ever wrecked, the garden was a patch of weeds that hadn't been touched that year. The barn was a monolithic silhouette in the gathering darkness and the tree stump left of the tree that had fallen in the storm years ago had sprouts trying to push their way through the old rotting wood.

His chest ached, blood thrumming in his ears as his vision narrowed and his knees buckled. Jesse sat heavily on the top step of the porch, throat tight as he scrubbed his hands over his face.

He couldn't breathe.

Crickets chirped in the evening stillness, and somewhere an owl had started calling.

Jesse raked his hands through his hair roughly, clutching the back of his head as he leaned forward, whispering.

"I can't stay here..."


	61. He's Leaving Home

He woke with a start, knocking over the cold cup of coffee that had been sitting beside him. Stretching out an arm groggily, Jesse grabbed a cloth napkin to mop up the mess he'd made. He let it sit on the table and stared for a moment before scrubbing his hands roughly over his face. Through his fingers, he spied the lined paper he'd fallen asleep on the night before and let his hand slap the table as he grabbed for it, crinkling the sheet roughly as he made a fist.

He stood and pushed his chair back roughly, the legs scraping over the tile floor and breaking the silence of the house as he finished cleaning the spilled coffee and threw the sopping napkin in the sink. His mother wouldn't have let it sit on the table to leave a water mark, Ruth certainly wouldn't have either...

Realizing he still held the paper in his hand, Jesse straightened it on the counter and read over his own handwriting before nearly sneering to himself and throwing the note in the trash bin.

If he'd thought Thomasville was a quiet town between races, it was unbearable without the anticipation of a race at the end of the week. There was nothing to bide his time, he either spent eight to ten hours a day at the garage, or he sat around the homestead waiting to go _back_ to the garage. He was not about to go looking for one of the few jobs in town, either working at The Merch or Hotel. Jesse Hudson wasn't going to compete with teenagers for a part-time job.

He'd spend the day getting the work around the homestead done, decline an invitation to join the others at The Cotter Pin sometime around 6, spend the evening on his own because Henry had some commitments to see to, and start the whole routine over again tomorrow morning.

Staring out the window over the kitchen sink, he watched the morning light filter through the leaves of the trees at the back of the property. Not a cloud in the sky. He might as well get the yard work done before the storms they'd predicted rolled in...

The screen door slapped angrily behind him as he left the house, and he passed where he'd left the Hornet in the yard the night before. It was a large piece of property to handle with an eighteen-inch reel mower, and he wasn't looking forward to his shoulders and back seizing up the way he knew they would.

He groused to himself as he dragged the rusting mower all the way back to the porch in an effort to retrieve his sunglasses. "If Briggs and Stratton was such a great name, they'd have a self-propelled mower by now..."

* * *

"Honey, you look like you have been through the ringer."

Emily looked away from the bustling intersection and back in to the diner, chin rested on her hand as she sat at a window booth. "Flew straight through, no stops. Though, I think I've been in half a dozen cabs between here and Phoenix."

"That's a lot of travel for only a few days stay." Flo remarked as she reached for a new coffee cup from the counter, filling it quickly and setting it before her friend.

"I'd originally planned to be back east around the fourth, but with as late a start as I got, I don't plan on heading back too soon."

Flo raised a brow, straightening the skirt apron over her mint colored dress and rounded the counter to return the coffee pot to the burner. "You're not leaving anyone hangin' are you?"

"No..." Emily muttered as she wrapped her fingers around the mug. "Someone was hired recently, she was an assistant briefly but really I was training her to be my replacement."

"You been thinking about this a while."

"I have..." Emily huffed faintly and nodded as she looked up from the booth.

She could always find something in town she could help with. Just being away from the east coast was already raising her spirits, however slowly. She'd become disillusioned in the past months over the sport she'd wanted so much to be a part of. The politics and closed door deals were not what she had signed up for. She'd rather walk away than eventually be backed in to a corner or find herself on the wrong end of those deals.

Radiator Springs wasn't that way. It was welcoming, comfortable, and safe. Everyone looked out for one another. The warm neon of main street was thousands of miles away from the cold hallways of the Piston Cup offices, and she would much prefer the blues and greens to blank white.

She blinked a few times, coming out of her reverie, and she stared at the single traffic light for a moment before muttering to herself. "I think I'll speak to mother about managing the restaurant..."

* * *

He'd nearly broken and fished the old pain medications out of the upstairs medicine cabinet, but instead had settled for a shower before finishing what errands in town he needed to get out of the way. He'd stopped at the bank, spending far longer explaining himself to a clerk than he figured was necessary before she politely gave up and passed him off to a branch manager, then to the post office and The Merch before returning home.

Thomasville became incredibly small when he refused to go near the track...

He'd passed the partially hidden entrance to the shine trail, and for a brief moment had considered it before deciding it wasn't worth the maintenance to the Hornet. It was a personal car now, not meant for performance...

Jesse stretched after getting out of the Hornet, back and shoulders still stiff. He could tell those storms they'd been talking about were coming, aside from the accumulating clouds, his head had begun to ache with a vengeance on the short drive home. If nothing else, he at least needed a nap. It had become his personal way of dealing with instances when they cropped up. He preferred it over medications at least.

Except it hadn't worked. He'd left his spot on the couch after about an hour, and gone to his own room in hopes of being more comfortable, but had been left tossing and turning most of the late afternoon. In his restlessness, he'd grabbed the keys to the Hornet and had gone out again, through town and along the river. He drove through Willmington County, this time with no fear of any kind of chase, though there might have been some left over shine in the trunk. He was just unassuming Jesse Hudson...out for a drive on a Saturday afternoon...

He wanted to talk to Henry, but they'd been over this a dozen times already. _They just had to adjust. They'd fit in to a new routine soon._

Just like every other time they'd had to learn a new routine...

He muttered to himself while rolling the window down and reaching for his cigarettes, turning back toward home. "I'm tired of adjusting."

He ignored the lights over The Cotter Pin, recently lit with the darkening skies, but didn't miss the familiar looking Piston Cup vehicles parked near the side door. Jesse drove through town, the engine of the Hornet a low rumble as he turned off the main drag and down the lane that lead to the track.

Jesse made sure to park far enough away that the Hornet wouldn't be seen, though the incoming storm, along with the hour, had made it dark enough that anything away from the large spotlights wouldn't be immediately noticeable. He'd closed the door quietly and snuck through the one spot in the chain link fence he'd always known they would never get around to fixing.

He stared out from his spot in the shadow of the grand stand at the spotlit track. Saturday was still amateur night at Thomasville, and if you were just lucky enough to qualify, you might get in with Piston Cup that Sunday morning if the race was scheduled there.

His gaze traced over the track, along the first turn and around to the second, over the back straight away and in to turns three and four. If turn four was taken hard enough, that's where he'd always gained positions...

If he just turned hard enough.

Racing was just a big turn to the left, but he wasn't turning left anymore, or right. He wasn't going anywhere. Jesse felt like he was standing still as he watched the world race by around him. The season was already halfway through, he'd seen less and less of Nash, Scott and Moon as more tracks were being added to the circuit, and they were forced to travel further and further every week. His brother was swamped with work. He'd been helping as much as he could, but his heart just wasn't in it.

The evening race was long over, the cars and drivers gone. His gaze caught on a betting slip as it drifted across the track. If the spotlights were on it meant someone must have been up in the press boxes. He stayed where he was, he wasn't interested in speaking to anyone.

He'd lived and breathed this sport for four years, and now he didn't know what to do with himself.

The track was home and it was familiar, but home wasn't supposed to be painful. Home wasn't supposed to whisper in your ear and taunt that you were no longer welcome. Home wasn't supposed to make your heart pound so painfully in your chest that you started to panic. It wasn't supposed to stand just out of reach, or leave you feeling abandoned. It wasn't supposed to suffocate you and leave you bleeding in the very dirt you'd once owned.

He blinked and looked down away from the track with a shuddering sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rid himself of the stray tears he refused to admit had threatened to fall.

Looking back up finally he took a steadying breath as his attention was caught by movement across the infield. He noticed whoever was in the press boxes was leaving the stands across the track and heading for the maintenance areas. They were too far away for him to know for sure but just by the figure, he assumed it was Moore.

With another sigh, he knelt down briefly for and grabbed a handful of the fine dirt under the wooden rail wall. He let it sift through his fingers, watching it with a heavy lidded gaze.

He remembered his brother doing the same on one of their very first times out, explaining to him the difference between this track and others. He remembered countless days of practice runs and nights of anxious anticipation. He remembered Ruth sitting high enough in the stands so as not to be affected and her mothering after every run they did.

Countless times he'd spend the week red eyed and sneezing because the dust was just that fine. He thought of the way it kicked up as soon as the field left the starting line and how his twin had hated that it got all over the jacket she'd spent so much time on, the way it coated everything halfway up the bleachers, the way it looked after the few times it had rained before a race. Running through it to retrieve a helmet River had thrown in their pre-race boredom. The way it somehow never touched Lou's jacket even when the rest of them were covered.

The fine, red dirt, of Georgia's, Thomasville Speedway was no place for him anymore. His eyes stung, shining dangerously as he gripped the whitewashed section of fence briefly before turning away.

Getting in to the car he rolled his window back up as the first few rain drops began to fall.

* * *

He'd barely slept that night, pacing the house and eventually watching the thunderstorm from the shelter of the front porch. The drop in temperature had helped ease the pressure between his ears but nothing would relieve the intense ache that had settled in his chest. He'd tried sleep, he'd tried water, tea that Ruth had once sworn by. He'd sat at the kitchen table for hours, glancing up at the clock before returning to what he'd begun writing at about two in the morning.

He couldn't slow down, he'd never felt this way, not when either of his parents died, not when Ruth had died, not when he'd learned of his own refusal to return to the sport he'd staked his life on. His hands shook, and he'd been forced to start over twice, misspelling words in his rush or hating the way his words sounded as he read them back to himself. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and had thrown his pen in frustration when a loud clap of thunder nearly shook the house to the foundations. The last time they'd seen a storm like this, the tree out back had fallen...

Jesse was red eyed and tired. He probably needed another shower, but couldn't be bothered at the moment. He raked has hands through his hair and let his elbows rest on the table as he read the paper in front of him one last time. Birdsong began to creep in to the kitchen, and he glanced up in surprise to see the gray light of the predawn gracing the window ledges.

He reached for the envelope that had been sitting to the side and sniffed indignantly as he shoved the folded sheet within. He wasn't going to cry.

He scrawled his brother's name across the front and stopped short a moment, looking the parcel over.

It had been a silent rivalry, for years between the two, that Jesse had never addressed him as _Smokey_. Why had he suddenly decided to do so now...

Getting up from the table suddenly, Jesse grabbed his older jacket, shut the lights off throughout the house, and locked the door behind him. The air was damp, and cool after the previous storm, and he could tell the sun would be coming out but he paid no mind to the brightening weather as he headed straight in to town.

A knot formed in his throat and his chest tightened at the sight of the stones along the far section of picket fence that bordered the cemetery. Jesse picked his way around the headstones, some so old he couldn't make out what they said. He didn't think he had ever actually known what any of those old stones had said...

Would his parents' stone look that way one day? Would Ruth's? Would people wander through this tiny plot in a hundred years and comment on how unfortunate it was? _It's a shame you can't read the names, I wonder who they were?_

For a moment he felt sorry for whoever would deal with this on his behalf one day, visiting a cold stone with nothing but some one sided memories, and a hole in the heart. He choked back the feeling of unease that struck him and continued toward the markers.

One larger stone behind the three, a family plot marker, with Hudson engraved in the heavy marble. In front were the smaller stones, marked; Father Henry, Mother Sarah, Daughter Ruth...

There was space between Ruth's stone and the next family. Someday Henry's would be there...his would be there, maybe, who knew...

Looking between the three, darkened by the rain that had left small pools in the top of the stones, Jesse's expression finally broke. His voice cracked harshly, startling a Blue Jay that squawked in the tree above him.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, tears coming unbidden and this time he made no effort to hide them. "I can't stay here. Everywhere I look there's something I've lost, _we've_ lost.

I'm not as strong as you all had told me. I'm not the person you all thought- I can't-"

He sat heavily on the ground, ignoring the dampness that would seep through his jeans as he sat between his parents' headstone, and Ruth's. He buried his face in his hands, holding his breath in an attempt to get the overwhelming feeling of hysteria to at least weaken. Only to abruptly drop his hands and look back at Ruth's stone, voice a harsh whisper.

"I tried so hard, Dipper. I _tried_ and it wasn't _enough._ I tried so hard to get us there in time. I redlined it. I did everything I knew how and I failed you. I failed you."

Jesse sniffed miserably, staring at the grass in front of his shoes.

"And Henry's out of his former position." He picked at a long blade of grass. "He deserves better than to work as hard as he does."

He frowned, setting his jaw before looking at his parents' stone.

"He won't go back because of me. If I hadn't-..." He cut himself off short, unable to finish, and returned to the blade of grass in his hand.

Hours had passed and the sun had risen significantly. Jesse had shifted a few times in an attempt to be more comfortable, eventually resting his back against the back of Ruth's stone.

The tears were gone, replaced with a solemn and quiet expression as he stared toward the picket fence, concentrating on keeping his own breathing under control.

"I hope you would all understand...but I guess I won't know for a long time..."

He stood finally, brushing his jeans off and looking over the stones one last time and the general area of their family plot.

"You always said you liked this tree...that it was the only place you could ever see dad and momma resting..." He muttered to Ruth's stone, vision blurring and voice cracking again. "Now you're here too."

Not allowing himself to get too emotional again, Jesse touched a hand gently to each stone before turning away with a strangled goodbye.

Leaving the cemetery, he headed for his brother's place. Town was silent that early on a Sunday morning, not even church goers were up and about yet. The others would have left the night before and he knew Henry wouldn't be up yet.

Stopping at a house tucked further back just outside of town, Jesse killed the engine and let the Hornet coast to a stop near the mailbox. He left the door open, standing uncertainly near the door with the folded letter in his hands. He should really talk to him face to face.

He couldn't. This was how he had to do this...

Jesse paced for nearly ten minutes, making it to the door of the Hornet before hesitating and starting back toward the house. He was a little surprised that he hadn't been noticed yet.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps again. _No_ , he couldn't go in. If he went in, then his brother would convince him to stay. Give it time. Let his anger mellow a little and let the pain fade. Jesse didn't want to sit around _waiting_ anymore. He was tired of waiting.

He continued this back and forth argument another five minutes. He'd made it as far as the mailbox but turned around quickly and hissed when his shirt caught on the little red carrier flag and yanked it up. Jesse went to shove it back in place but only really succeeded in getting it partially down. He checked his arm after glaring at the mail box in offense.

Bleeding, perfect.

In his frustration, he shoved the envelope addressed to Smokey in to the mail box and slammed the little door shut before stalking back to the Hornet and pulling away from the front of the house. He refused to look in the rear view mirror as he traveled the bend that would put Thomasville behind him.

* * *

Half an hour later, as the risen sun was burning off the evening mist and cutting through the weeping willow branches, the mail carrier stopped and pushed down the red flag on Henry Hudson's mail box before reaching for the envelope within. He tossed it in to his messenger bag without looking for an address, or return address.


	62. Where You Headed?

**AN: It has been an exhausting winter. Between surgeries and hospital stays for family members and 48 hour power outages in temps below twenty, I'm done with this season and ready for spring. I've finally found some time to sit down and write, after ordering a new wireless keyboard and getting a chance to settle down for a little while.**

* * *

The woman behind the diner counter popped her gum loudly and Jesse watched in tired resignation as she looked through the handwritten log she'd pulled from the shelf. Her purple eye shadow clashed horribly with her lipstick and Jesse wondered idly how the black headband she wore could stay in place with the height of her beehive updo.

At least people had stopped recognizing him.

"Where you say you were from again, sweetheart?" She popped her gum again while flipping the page in the log.

"Georgia, Ma'am..."

"Oh, I can hear it now." She glanced up with a faint grin but shook her head. "There's nothin' available I'm afraid."

The diner was attached to a small hotel, and all Jesse had wanted was somewhere to stop for a few hours sleep before continuing on.

"There's nothing?"

" 'fraid not."

He scrubbed a hand over his face before raking his fingers through his hair and scratching at the back of his head. He hadn't slept in at least a day, he was hungry, tired, and needed a shower.

"There is a spare room around the back of the kitchen you might be able to use, though. It's only a small bed. No bathroom, or amenities."

He was already reaching for his wallet. "How much would that be?"

"Five dollars."

Jesse scowled. "That's what one of your rooms costs."

"I don't make the rules, honey."

He huffed lowly, pulling a few bills from his wallet before reaching for a paper cup to fill with what smelled like day old coffee.

"That'll be a dollar."

Setting his jaw, Jesse slapped a ten down on the counter. "Gimme a blue plate special. If four bucks'll cover it."

He left the diner, wanting to make it to the bank before they closed for the afternoon. Leaving home with only a couple bucks might not have been the smartest thing to do...

Leaving home might not have been the smartest thing to do.

He wasn't about to eat crow. He'd call when he got the chance, but for now he still wanted to be angry. He didn't need the earful he'd most likely get from Henry, and he certainly didn't need the looks of confusion from the others.

Hopping up the steps in to the bank, he found an open teller and attempted to explain his situation. The girl stuttered and blushed but explained that she would need to speak to her supervisor.

The woman looked like the diner ladies' slightly more professional sister.

"How can we help you. Mr.-?"

"Hudson...I was hoping to get a money transfer?"

"We're closing in twenty minutes, I'm afraid."

"I realize that, Ma'am." He leaned his forearm against the counter, accent thickening just a degree as he forced a southern boy charm he wasn't feeling. "It's just that I'm an awful long way from home and I haven't even got the money to get back. You don't know me from Adam but I can promise I'm good for it."

The girl running the counter looked between Jesse and her supervisor, as if silently willing the woman to help him.

"I saw you roll in with that fancy blue car." The woman gestured to the window, where everyone present could see that a few of the local men were eyeing it up, wondering who the owner was. "Maybe you could sell it and get yourself a bus ticket, honey."

"No, Ma'am." Jesse straightened suddenly, watching through the partially drawn blinds before looking back toward her. "It's all I got left."

The woman watched him a moment, as if weighing her options, and played with the corner of the forms in front of her. "Where you from?"

"Georgia."

"How long you been on the road?"

Jesse blinked, looking for the date somewhere on the counter. "I dunno. A day, maybe two."

"You made it to Oklahoma in a straight shot?"

"That where I am?"

"Yes, sir. It is." She muttered, pushing the forms toward him. "I will grant a fifty dollar transfer, but I want your driver's license number, and vehicle license plate number, up here in the corner."

Jesse nodded, murmuring his agreement as he took the pen from her.

With fifty bucks in his pocket, and a full belly, Jesse stared at the ceiling of what could barely pass for a closet in the room attached to the back of the kitchen of the diner. He'd turned the radio on in hopes to drown out the sounds of the bustling activity and lay with his hands clasped over his stomach. He should really call Henry, at least let him know he was alright and not to worry about him, but he really didn't have time to listen to the lecture that was sure to follow.

It wasn't exactly like he was pressed for time, though, either.

"You're making excuses..." He whispered to himself while flipping his wallet back open and thumbing through the few pictures he'd always carried with him.

The image was somewhat washed out, it had taken them all a while to get used to how the camera worked. Ruth had always been the best with it. She had her arms wrapped around his neck from behind and the smile on her face betrayed the fact that she had been complaining only moments before the image was taken over how much his jacket had needed washed, her cheek pressed roughly against his as they'd both smiled and looked in to the lens.

He blinked rapidly a few times and sniffed faintly, slapping the wallet closed. He reached up and flipped the heavy light switch, struggling to fall asleep to the sound of Hank Williams on the radio and the dinner rush on the other side of the thin door.

* * *

"You haven't seen him?"

"No. I haven't seen him." Henry muttered while cleaning up the tools he'd been using in the bay.

"We were gunna head over to the house-"

"He's not at the house."

"How do you-"

"Because I've been to the house." He let the hood of the car he'd been working on fall shut and looked toward the others with reserved patience. "Give him a few days and leave him alone for a while."

He'd been over earlier that morning. When Jesse hadn't shown up at the garage, he'd stopped out to see if everything was alright. He'd been met with locked doors and an empty driveway.

Jesse never locked the doors, and while it was a little concerning, Henry wasn't going to panic just yet.

River, Junior, and Lou had begun to talk between themselves, and while Henry wasn't paying much attention to what they were saying specifically, he knew what it was about. They were upset that Jesse had given them the brush off, taking it as a personal slight.

"Give him space."

"He's just ignored us, Smokey."

"I'm sorry, he's what?" He raised a brow as he looked between the three, cleaning his hands on an old rag.

"He-"

"We haven't seen any of you in a few weeks." Henry tossed the rag aside and leaned a hand against the work table. "For such a small town you'd think we'd at least bump in to each other a little more often, and not telling us when the race was here? Yeah, he's upset. So am I."

The three remained silent as he continued. Henry never raised his voice, he'd never been the type, but it was obvious when he was upset or irritated.

"We know what the schedules in Piston Cup are like, but we've been written off by everyone else. We weren't expecting it from the rest of you, too."

"Look, Smokey-" River started.

"We didn't mean to-"

"We just don't know how to act..." Lou finished.

Henry grabbed his keys and herded them out the door as he closed up the garage for the afternoon.

"Like we're still your friends, would be good enough." He replied while leaving for his truck.

* * *

"Oklahoma..." Jesse muttered. "Where the hell do I go from Oklahoma..."

He'd been without the use of a map since passing the border of Georgia, but the woman in the diner had told him if he stayed on the main street of town and followed the route signs, he could have a clear shot all the way to California.

"The hell am I gunna find in California..."

More beaches, why would he want to do that...

It would be about as far away as he could get from Thomasville without leaving the country, though.

He'd topped off on gas, made sure to eat something before leaving, and had answered at least a dozen questions concerning his car before he'd been able to leave the gas station.

No, it wasn't factory, about as far from it as a Hudson Hornet could get...

No, he didn't know what speed it could reach...but it had been over one-fifty at one point...

No, he hadn't seen the new Hornets in Piston Cup, and no, he didn't care to hear how poorly they were doing.

No, he'd never heard of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

No, he didn't know the driver's real name, or what had happened to him.

"He's a washed up, homeless, has been." Jesse muttered to himself as he had left town. No one needed to know who Jesse Hudson was.

The landscape changed the further west he drove. The flat plain was another world compared to the foggy mountains of Georgia he'd left only days ago. The heat was different, but as long as it remained warm, he didn't care. The landscape could look however it wanted as long as he wasn't left shivering or forced to turn the heat on.

With each gas station he stopped at and roadside hotel he felt a little less like the Jesse Hudson that had grown up in the backwoods of Georgia. The kid who had lost both parents before twenty, his sister before twenty-three, and his livelihood before twenty-five. If anyone did chance to ask him his name, they were satisfied with _Jesse_ and that was enough. The further west he made it, the fewer questions he received concerning his car. A '51 Hudson Hornet was old news compared to models he was seeing more frequently with each stop.

All he worried about any more was if there was some money in his pocket, and if he was still following those Route 66 signs. No responsibilities, no connections, no family.

No heartbreak.

He could get used to this.

His aviators reflected the bright light of the windows as he'd reached in to his pocket to pay the gas station attendant, offering a polite grin when they answered his question of where he was.

"Texas...'bout halfway through the panhandle." The register chimed as the man went for his change. "You going anywhere?"

"No. Just taking a drive." Jesse glanced back up, nodding once in farewell as he took the pack of cigarettes that had been handed to him and left the station.

He was certainly taking his own sweet time. Lying against the trunk of the Hornet, he stared at the tri-fold map he'd picked up outside the door. Some family in the vehicle beside him had all gotten ice cream and the kids were shouting and running about the car, he glanced in their direction briefly before going back to the complimentary map.

It had only taken him a day and a half to get from Georgia to Oklahoma, but nearly two weeks to get to Texas. He'd stayed a few days in a few different towns, though. If the hotels were half decent, he didn't always leave immediately.

He should really call home.

"Henry's gunna kill me..." He tossed his sunglasses aside and rubbed at his forehead with a sigh. He'd call home from wherever he ended up stopping later that night...

About an hour out from the gas station, Jesse slowed the Hornet to a stop and pulled off to the shoulder of the road. A suspicious knocking had started under the hood and he wasn't about to continue without at least looking to see what it was. With a sigh, he popped the hood, letting it idle as he walked in a circle around the vehicle and listened. Leaning over the engine, he turned his left ear closer in an attempt to hear better, and with a frustrated grimace he slammed the hood shut.

It was dusk by then, and with no cloud cover, the night air would get very chilly. Digging his heavy jacket out of the trunk, he crawled in to the back seat and locked all of his doors.

A cracked piston was no joke. He and Henry had missed something. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The Hudson homestead was dark, save for a single light on in the kitchen that spilled to the back porch. Henry sat in his usual spot at the back table, glass of moonshine in hand and smoke from his cigarette curling in the faint light. The silhouette of the barn stood like a sentinel over the house and the remains of a once flourishing garden lay in ruins in the far corner of the yard.

He sat in silence, listening to the radio broadcast through the open kitchen window.


	63. Piston Cup's Biggest Fan

Joan paused at the top of the steps and heaved a low sigh. Henry had kept her informed of what was going on while she'd been visiting family. Every few days she'd call back or he'd be able to catch her. Unsure what she would be walking in to, she pulled the screen door open and looked about the kitchen before stepping inside.

She could hear him moving about upstairs and bit her lip as she set her things on the counter. Jesse's white helmet still sat on the table, exactly where it had stayed since Jesse had been turned away from Piston Cup. Everything was exactly where it should be as far as she could tell. She was afraid to touch anything.

"Hey."

She looked up and offered a greeting as he passed, on whatever mission he was apparently on, and followed him back outside. "Hey..."

Hesitating and looking back toward the door, she fumbled over what she should be doing and finally braced herself before turning to look at him fully again. She watched as he stood at the makeshift work table set up at the bottom of the steps. She wasn't exactly the handiest of people but she knew enough to see that he was working on a chainsaw that had seen better days.

She tilted her head and leaned against the railing of the porch, waiting for him to say something.

"How was your trip?"

"Fine." She crossed her arms and squinted against the sunlight for a moment before looking back down to see him toss something aside as he rifled through the assortment of parts on the table. "What are you doing?"

He glanced up at her briefly while fitting a nut and bolt together. Cursing lowly when the nut cross threaded, he threw the set down for a new one from the boxes and adjusted his ball cap. "Caught up at the garage. Needed to get out here and clean up some of the branches we'd been talking about for weeks."

Silence followed his statement, and Joan bit her lip again, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. _We_ meant he and Jesse...

"Henry?"

He spoke without looking up. Tone sharper than usual, his one word reply was clipped and harsh. "Yeah?"

"The others were on their way out of town..."

"Surprised they were even still here."

"Junior said you told them you'd come back to the house the other night to find it opened up..."

"I did say that."

She let her question go unasked, and frowned when he looked up at her finally. He could put on a show for the others, and maybe he'd been able to fool them, but the confusion and hurt in his eyes was plain as day. He leaned the heels of his hands against the edge of the work table, glancing over the array in front of him as he sorted his thoughts and looked up again. "I told 'em I'd seen Jesse to get 'em off my back. Alright?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, not sure she agreed with that decision but it was his call.

"I opened the house back up..." He muttered. He'd waited that night for Jesse to come home. He was going to let him rant and get everything out of his system and hopefully get him to just relax and actually get some sleep. He'd woken up the next morning on the couch, immediately yelling up the stairs in case Jesse had passed him the night before without waking him. When there was no answer he'd gone back to the porch to see that his pickup was still sitting alone in the driveway.

Wandering through the house was when he'd noticed the Cups were missing, Jesse's quilt their mother had made was missing. Some photographs from the wall, the lighter Jesse had found of their father's wasn't where he usually left it on the counter...

'I dunno where he is." He finally said after a moment, looking back up to meet her eyes.

"Have you spoken to-"

"I filed a report this morning..."

"When are you going to say something?"

"When they aren't concentrating so much on the season-"

"Henry."

"He obviously didn't feel the need to tell them, Joan. He didn't feel the need to tell _me_. He left without a word to anyone and I don't-" He shook his head, bracing his hands on his hips and looking over the table again as if somehow the parts in front of him could give him an answer.

He understood mechanics, parts fit together and they just _worked,_ and if they didn't work, he could usually persuade them to do what he wanted with a little coaxing.

Why couldn't life be the same way.

Joan knew better than to ask questions that couldn't be answered, she descended the steps and stood across from him, picking up the cross threaded nut and bolt absently.

"I dunno what to do." He picked up the chain that had been newly oiled and let it back down on to the table top with a clatter. "If I tried looking, I wouldn't even know where to start. I just-..."

Jesse was an adult, but he was all he had left. His stomach turned at the countless possibilities, and to distract himself he went back to work with an indignant sniff, gaze focused on the work in front of him.

"I just don't know."

* * *

Jesse hadn't slept much at all. Night in the desert was cold, and he'd woken up half a dozen times to start the Hornet and turn the heat on, only allowing it to run long enough to take the edge off. Parked on the shoulder of the road, he'd slept with his head closer to the passenger side of the vehicle. The last thing he needed was some traveler sideswiping his car and killing him in the process. Every time he had started the car, he'd sit up with his coat over his shoulders, teeth grit against the sound of the cracked piston firing. It grated on his already frayed nerves and he hadn't wanted to cause more damage than had already been done. It had warmed up quickly once the sun rose, and he'd gotten more sleep in the few morning hours than he had at all the previous night.

Curled up in the back seat, he was huddled under his old duck cloth jacket. Eventually stirring sometime around 11:00 once the sun beating through the window had become too much to remain comfortable. He'd checked his watch and had flung the jacket aside before sitting up and trying to come up with a plan.

He had no idea where the nearest town was, but he wasn't about to drive even a quarter mile with that knocking going on under the hood. Rifling through the trunk, he found one of Henry's baseball caps and studied it for a moment before retrieving his sunglasses from the dash and locking up the car.

It would be a long walk in either direction, he'd need some form of protection from the sun.

The landscape was foreign, and if he weren't in such a lousy mood he probably would have paid more attention to just how different everything was. He'd grown up on the east coast, the Blue Ridge Mountains and surrounding rivers were familiar and comforting. This was flat, and dry, and dusty.

It was warm, at least. He had that going for him.

His stomach growled and the back of his throat was dry, every now and then he'd attempt to clear it with no results and he resigned himself to the fact that he'd just have to wait until he made it somewhere. Pausing quickly at the thought, he checked his pockets and only continued on when he was sure his wallet was on hand.

His cigarettes and lighter weren't, and when he turned around to see the Hornet was only a speck on the horizon he cursed and continued on once again.

A few cars had passed him, and while some had only moved to the far lane to get around him, others had slowed and asked if he needed help. Jesse had politely declined, but did ask how close the nearest town was. He'd only nodded when the woman in sunglasses and scarf told him it was at least another five miles, if not more.

It was after 1:00 when a truck finally slowed beside him. He couldn't help but smile grimly when they doggedly followed alongside, despite his obvious attempts to ignore them.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the man reach across and roll the passenger window down.

"That your Hornet back there?"

"There more than one on this stretch of road?"

The man, maybe a year or two older than himself, continued to ignore his obvious foul mood. "I got a garage a few miles up. Give you a ride and we'll go back to get your car goin' again."

Jesse only continued walking, pausing and rolling his neck when he realized the truck had stopped. He sighed in defeat when he heard a door open and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck before he turned around to get in the truck.

The stranger had opened up the passenger door for him, knowing he'd eventually cave, and put the truck in gear while hanging an arm out the window. "We'll go up and get some tow straps first."

He didn't comment again when Jesse didn't reply, only trying again once pulling in to the small lot in front of the garage.

"It's a nice car. Fifty-one?"

"Yeah."

"Where you goin'?"

"I don't really know..."

"Well, at least you were close enough to a place like mine to break down, huh?"

Jesse only offered a somewhat amused huff, sure the man would gouge his prices. He stayed in the truck and remained silent as they returned to where he'd spent the night on the side of the road.

"You know what's wrong with it?" The man asked while throwing him a strap to use on his side.

"Piston knock."

There was a knowing sound of frustration from his helper, and the man scratched at his jaw while looking the Hornet over appreciatively. "I think there's an old '52 or '53 behind my place. Might be able to salvage one."

"I'd appreciate it."

Jesse had run to the driver's side to put the Hornet in neutral and they worked in silence, only speaking again once they'd gotten back in to the truck.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Name's Tomás, but everyone 'round here calls me Tom."

He didn't look away from the Hornet's reflection in the side mirror, stomach dropping at the sense of familiarity. "Jesse."

"Well, Jesse. We'll get you back on the road before too long."

At least someone would...

* * *

He realized he'd made an enormous mistake once he'd gotten out of the truck and the Hornet had been pushed in to a small bay.

A Piston Cup logo was painted high across the cinder block wall in the back, and multiple promotional images were scattered on any available wall space. He looked between the Hornet and its exact image on a tear away calender, stiffening when the man spoke again.

"Piston Cup's moving this way. I might actually get a chance to be a sanctioned garage."

"You don't say..." He stared at an image of himself, from '51, or possibly '52. When he'd been young, and dumb, and knew what it was like to smile.

Had that really only been three years ago?

A baseball cap and his sunglasses weren't exactly going to hide who he was, not when someone apparently knew the sport as well as Tom.

Jesse was so dumbstruck, he didn't have a chance to be offended when the mechanic took the liberty of opening the hood of the Hornet and taking a look. His gaze was trained on a shelf of glass jars, filled with varying levels of red dirt.

Palm Mile.

Rocker Arms.

Thomasville...

He realized he was being spoken to and looked sharply in Tom's direction. "What?"

"They did you wrong."

He blinked a few times, speechless, and he was cut off before he had the chance to think of what to say.

"Word gets around."

Jesse wasn't sure how to reply. Either the man had come to some of his own conclusions or was somehow aware that Jesse had been backdoored, at the very least. He wasn't interested in finding out, exactly.

To his surprise, that was the end of the subject. After working together to figure out which piston needed to be replaced, Tomás had tossed a rag aside and explained that he was almost positive there would be an equivalent in an old junker around the back. Assuming Jesse hadn't gotten much rest recently, he instructed him to make himself comfortable in what looked like a small guest house around the side of the building.

"I make my in-laws stay there." He joked. "Get some rest and we can finish it this afternoon."

"I don't know how to-"

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do."

"Tell you what. You share a few stories and we call it even."

Jesse raised a brow, finally removing his sunglasses, as it was obvious he wasn't exactly remaining anonymous, and shook the man's hand. "Deal."

He had just stepped outside of the bay of the garage, intent on getting some actual sleep. They'd get the piston replaced and he'd be on his way again. Or if it took longer, he'd find out where the closest hotel was.

" 'ey. Hudson."

He hadn't heard his own last name in weeks.

"You know you're the only one I never got a chance to meet?"

Jesse only raised a brow.

"Followed the circuit a while, before getting married." He gestured to Jesse. "Had met everyone but you."

He caught himself looking over the man's shoulder, at different sized posters, an image for the promotional race he'd been commissioned for years ago. His career lined this stranger's walls and meeting The Fabulous Hudson Hornet face to face was like some lifelong achievement.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a somewhat pained grin and he gestured to the Hornet. "Pop the trunk when you get a chance."

He didn't expand upon his comment when he was given a look of confusion, only excused himself and asked to be woken before it got too late, glancing up at the name and small slogan over the garage doors before going to the little guest quarters.

If anyone would appreciate a couple Piston Cups in the back of the former #51 Hudson Hornet, it was Tomás Ramirez, self proclaimed number one fan of Piston Cup.


	64. Where Are You?

**September 1955**

"Well." He muttered and scratched at the back of his neck while eyeing the road ahead of him. "It sure ain't Georgia."

Jesse had spent nearly two weeks in Texas. Once the piston had been replaced, he and Tomás had gone over the vehicle once more top to bottom. He wasn't particularly interested in getting any more surprises.

Their last conversation lingered at the back of his thoughts and he caught himself thinking it over every time he pulled in to a motel parking lot.

 _"Where you goin' exactly?"_

 _"California...maybe, who knows."  
_

 _"Nothin' really out there."_

Jesse sighed quietly to himself and shut the engine off. He bit the inside of his cheek before opening the door.

"Exactly what I''m looking for...nothing."

It was the same routine with every town he stopped in. He'd pay for a night at a time, unless he was extremely exhausted or had seen enough of the area to pique his interest, he might pay for up to a week in advance. It always left with him eventually leaving, though. The longer he stayed anywhere, the more his thoughts were dragged back to Georgia, to Thomasville, brick sidewalks, gravel roads and red dirt tracks.

Home.

A little over two months on the road and he felt like he hadn't exactly made it very far. Looking at the complimentary desk calender in his room, Jesse flipped back to the date he'd left, counting the days since he'd mowed the grass of the homestead, seen his friends, spoken to his brother...

His brow furrowed at that thought, in close to the same manner he'd cringed at his own comment to the clerk at the check in desk.

"Georgia?" The man had asked while looking at his license. "You're a long way from home, son."

"Yes, sir."

"You on your way west, or back east?"

"West."

"Get a lot of travelers from both directions."

He'd only made a sound of acknowledgment, waiting for his room key.

"How long is your little adventure?"

Jesse raised a brow, staring at the counter top before meeting the man's eyes. "A few weeks so far."

"You don't have a time you need to be back east?"

It was only general conversation, the man was most likely killing some time while trying to find a misplaced form but Jesse wasn't interested in questions that struck a little too close. "I'm in no hurry..."

"No? Nothing you need to get back to?"

Jesse shook his head.

"Family?"

"No. Nothing." He'd replied without thinking. His stomach had twisted in to a knot, and he'd glared at the paperwork in front of him, only muttering a _thanks_ when the gentleman had finally handed him the sought after key.

In his room, Jesse scrubbed his hands over his face roughly and let his elbows rest on the desk.

* * *

The door chimed quietly as Henry let it swing closed behind him, stepping aside to allow Mrs. Rhodes pass and offering a polite, if somewhat forced grin, as she left the bank.

Sunlight reflecting off the tile floor blinded him briefly as he crossed the lobby space and joined the shortest line to a teller's window. Friday's were, of course, always the busiest, but Henry was no stranger to customers comments of _I have no money till Friday._ He held on to checks sometimes for weeks at a time before finally making any deposits in to his own account.

Glancing up from the paperwork in his hands, he noticed a window had suddenly opened and sidestepped to get to the counter before anyone noticed. He pulled the checks toward himself before the girl could get a chance to slide them across the counter.

"Could I make an inquiry before you start with this?" He asked, gesturing to the signed bank notes.

She blinked, stuttering briefly in surprise before nodding. "Oh, yes...go ahead."

They'd gone to school together, he vaguely recognized her, but that wasn't his current concern. "Could you look in to an account for me?"

She reached for the pen beside her and looked up at him questioningly. "How many accounts under your name, Henry?"

"It's not under my name."

"Oh-" She set the pen down. "I'm not at liberty to share-"

"I'm not asking for the actual account-"

She repeated the same answer to every angle he attempted, until Henry had finally had enough. Shoving the checks in his back pocket, he leaned his forearm against the counter and glanced to either side before speaking lowly in a tone that suggested they no longer argue.

"Look, Katherine. I understand that requesting information on accounts is not permitted, but I also know that you are aware of the situation I am currently dealing with."

The girl hesitated before nodding slightly.

"I just want to know if there has been any activity on my brother's account."

"H-" She paused once more when a manager passed behind her. "Mr. Hudson I'm-"

Henry leaned forward slightly, not usually one to use intimidation. "It's a yes or no question."

He stood up straight when the manager approached, the middle aged woman looking to her employee. "Is everything alright?"

Katherine stuttered again, and Henry felt this patience wearing thin. "We were discussing the possibility of-"

"Of checking my brother's accounts." Henry finished for her, having had enough with dancing around the issue.

An awkward silence fell over the three, until Henry shifted uncomfortably and repeated himself.

"I need to know what's happened with those accounts."

The manager took a slip of paper, asking him to print to make sure there was correct spelling and instructed him to take a seat in the lobby, she would be out with whatever information she could find.

He stared out one of the many windows in to the blinding afternoon sun of Thomasville, tapping the folded checks in his hand against the arm of the chair as he watched vehicles pulling in and out of the lot to the diner. He made a mental note to himself to stop over before heading back home, he was fairly sure Joan was working the day shift but he couldn't remember for sure. They waited until Friday nights to make plans for the weekend anymore.

Just in case Jesse walked through that door.

Whenever he left the homestead, he always wondered if he'd return to the Hornet in the drive. Whenever he returned and made the turn on to the road that passed the front of the house, he wondered if Jesse would be sitting at the table on the back porch, or maybe in the kitchen, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

Or maybe he'd be moody and sullen.

Henry didn't care, he just wanted him _home._

"Where are you." He murmured softly to himself. Still staring out in to the street, his vision blurred with the intensity of the light and he blinked rapidly a few times, clearing his throat before his thoughts could stray too far. He nearly jumped when there was a voice at his side, looking up in vague confusion he reached for the brown envelope held out to him.

"I was able to collect the last statements."

"Oh." He replied dully, as if just remembering why they were even conversing. "Thank you. Appreciate it."

He didn't appreciate the way she patted his arm as he stood up to leave, as if consoling someone who's lost a loved one.

He was barely out the main doors when he nearly collided with someone just coming up the walk, a rough hand against his chest caught him off guard and he blinked in surprise before frowning at Junior.

Not Jesse...

For just a moment he'd hoped...

"What is it, Moon?"

"The hell's going on, Smokey?" River and Lou were right behind him, and all three were regarding him with the same angry expression.

"Can't tell you what I don't know." He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders as he went to step around them.

"Don't play that card."

"What card, River?"

"Got tired of Hud playin' at being the passive aggressive one. Don't you start."

Henry looked between the three, expression grim as he shook his head and continued to his truck.

"We're not just letting this go!"

"Then meet me at the house." He nearly growled, yanking the driver's side door to the truck open. "Not talking about this here."

* * *

"So how long's he really been gone?"

Lou's question hung in the air as they sat on the back porch. With tempers cooled somewhat, they waited patiently for Henry to reply. He looked up from the statements and a handwritten explanation from the manager before answering. Keeping the forms out of reach of the others, he held them close to himself as he read over them repeatedly.

"Long enough that there's a police report..."

"He didn't leave anything?"

"He left nothing. Took enough with him to make it obvious he plans to be away a while."

After a few moments of tense silence, River spoke. "When's the last time-..."

"The garage...that was weeks ago, if not longer." He scrubbed a hand over his face in exhaustion and shifted in his chair. "We were working on a truck..."

He knew, _he knew_ Jesse was upset, _b_ _eside himself_ with pent up frustration, anger, hurt, and betrayal. The kid's eyes had been so blank in the months following the decision from Piston Cup that there were times Henry couldn't even look at him.

He should have seen something like this coming. He should have known Jesse wouldn't want to stick around. Maybe if he had caught him before he'd had a chance to leave, he could have at least gotten an _idea_ of where his brother was. A navy blue Hudson Hornet wasn't very eye catching these days, a dime a dozen on the highways. Without that bright lettering and #51, Jesse could go wherever he pleased without anyone knowing who he was.

Henry had a feeling that was the point.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Jesse was an adult. He could make his own decisions and care for himself, but from the time Henry was thirteen, he'd been watching out for that excitable and snarky little boy.

He tapped the brown envelope against his knee and scowled when he suddenly realized he'd never cashed his own checks while he was at the bank as the others spoke. They tried to remember the last time they had seen Jesse or what their last conversations had been. It was the same with each of them, The Cotter Pin, the post office, The Merch...

 _It obviously wouldn't have been the track_ , Henry thought a little bitterly to himself. Jesse wouldn't be caught dead near a track...

They couldn't stay, and no one had the stomach to admit it was because they had to be on the road early the next morning for a race. Henry knew. They didn't need to explain themselves to him.

Their parting was uncomfortable, and they all agreed they'd keep their ears open for any word, but Henry knew they wouldn't hear anything.

As soon as they were gone, he laid out the statements on the table to look over more closely. He'd only been able to glance at them while speaking to the others, and not understanding what he was seeing, had become nervous during the conversation.

Joan found him late that afternoon, still at the table, but not only were there statements in front of him, but the deed to his own house, the deed to the homestead, and every piece of legal script he could have in possession. she stood at the top of the steps, expression startled and fearing what may have been discovered while she was working.

"What is this...Henry, what's happened?"

"He took his name off the joint account."

She set her things down, forgetting her original plan to go in to the house. "He what?"

"The joint account. The one we had used for Piston Cup?"

Joan nodded, she didn't know all the details but she knew the boys used to take care of incidentals and car maintenance through a shared bank account. Race earnings were split and certain bills covered that way.

"Mine's the only name on it...left it the way it was, closed his own accounts after withdrawing whatever there was in 'em."

She bit her lip and picked through the other documents. "And all of this...?"

"This is for me." He muttered, gathering it together to try to get back in order.

Joan watched his expression carefully as he read over a deed.

"I'm moving back in to the homestead..."


	65. Placing Blame

**October 1955**

It was his fault that Ruth was gone.

It was one thing he'd never been able to confide in Henry. One thing he'd never been able to voice. The words stuck in his throat and choked him, blocking his airways and suffocating in a way that only she would understand. They weighed heavily on him until he made himself sick. Heart pounding and chest aching as his vision swam and he feared he might lose whatever he'd been able to stomach for dinner earlier that evening.

Humidity made her tired, and she'd always made an effort to attend his races. In the hot summer sun, she'd risk an afternoon to see him. Dust made her sneeze, it made her cough, and she spent so much time around those tracks just to humor him. It made it hard for her to breathe, and he tracked it through the house without a care in the world.

He'd been a stupid, selfish little boy, focusing on his own wants and dreams and allowing his twin to suffer the consequences. He hadn't even managed getting her to a hospital in time. He'd failed her in every way.

Maybe it was justice that he couldn't return to a track.

Jesse stared out the window, vision blurring as his gaze became unfocused. He didn't acknowledge the rain illuminated in the soft halo created by the street light in the parking lot, or the sound of the downpour as it fell in sheets across the roof. He'd diverted a little in his original treck west, and sat in some hotel in Colorado. He wasn't exactly pressed for time, he could go wherever he wanted, maybe even go back toward the east coast, visit some of the places she had always wanted to see...

She could have talked him down. She would have allowed him his moments of moodiness, but when she would have deemed it time to step in, she wouldn't have sugar coated the situation either. She would have goaded him, pressing just hard enough in all the right places until he snapped back at her like an angry dog. She would have forced him to vent his frustrations, even if it left her sitting alone in the kitchen while he slammed the door to his bedroom like a child.

That's all he was, though, a spoiled child who threw a fit whenever something didn't go his way.

It was his fault...

Henry had only mentioned it once, the night they had returned home from the hospital. The night Ruth had died. He'd held on to Jesse's shoulder and told him that he'd done nothing wrong.

But how could he say that? How could he ignore the fact that Jesse should've known better? He should have known better, should have been more careful, should have been more observant, should have stayed awake that afternoon, should have driven harder, should have _been there when she died._

He wasn't.

He wasn't any of those things. Jesse Hudson wasn't some good old southern boy. He wasn't the golden image the press had talked him up to be.

He was a failure.

He was a smiling face in the glossy pages of some old Piston Cup publication hawking a specific brand of motor oil. He was flash and fanfare and speed with no substance...

Jesse Hudson had gone by a title that meant absolutely nothing. The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had been boxed up and set aside for another smiling face to fill those magazine pages. There were three heavy Piston Cups weighing down the back end of his car outside. They meant nothing.

They were filled with former hopes and dreams, success and a passion he'd spent so much of his time on. Blood, sweat, and tears, in the form of brushed gold.

They were empty. Hollow symbols of something he'd nearly given his life for, what he'd apparently found more important than his twin's well-being...

He couldn't face Henry, not the one family member he had left, who watched with an air of concern but remained silent as Jesse slowly collapsed. He'd failed Ruth, but he'd failed Henry also, and why stay in a place you could no longer stomach when you couldn't look anyone in the eye.

Jesse blinked a few times, drawn from his middle of the night session of self loathing with the sudden realization that the rain had stopped. Focusing his gaze once more, he realized the orange of the streetlight had disappeared and was replaced with the soft peach light of morning.

Red eyed and stiff, he sniffed once as he got up from the uncomfortable chair in the corner and turned the lamp off. Collapsing in the single bed in the room, he kicked his shoes off and wrapped himself in the comforter before falling asleep.

Four hours later there was a heavy knock at the door and a harsh voice from the other side.

"Check out was half an hour ago!"

The door swung open, Jesse eyeing the man with bleary disgust as he shoved a handful of money in to his chest and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Emily had groaned faintly at the sound of the phone ringing and could barely remember the conversation even as she'd gotten dressed. She'd given herself a brief look in the mirror before leaving her small accommodations and walking up the street to The Cozy Cone at such an odd hour.

She felt like she'd been slapped when Michael walked through the door with his _straggler_ as he had called the hapless traveler he'd found with a flat tire a few miles from town.

She'd heard rumors that Jesse Hudson had disappeared, but had never expected to run in to him like this...

A little offended that he didn't immediately recognize her, she had carefully goaded until he did say her name. Even as late as it was, she wasn't oblivious to the guarded look that took over, how his answers became a little more clipped than they had been. She couldn't really blame him, her family were the founders of the sport that had quite literally crushed him in to the dust he once raced on.

He'd looked about ready to turn and leave when he realized he had no money on him, hesitating and looking her over in faint distrust when she offered to cover the room until he could get a hold of his funds. Her heart had jumped in sympathy when he'd rifled through his wallet, around pictures she could just barely make out of long lost family members. This was not the same man she'd watched from a distance for so many years, cool, calm, and confident in a way that suggested a level of arrogance to rival her brother's. Now, Jesse Hudson just looked tired, too world weary to concern himself with anything other than where he may be getting his next meal. He looked like he might not have slept in days, and she wasn't expecting to see him in town at all the next day.

The only time she could remember him looking so down, were the races after his sister had passed.

Except now there would be no racing.

Emily watched him leave the front desk in silence, and fought back the sudden sting of tears that threatened to fall.

Jesse glanced at the key in his hand as he crossed the darkened lot, looking over his shoulder briefly as Emily Piston closed up the front door once again. With a scowl, he shoved the key in to the door and nearly kicked it open. Of all the places to end up...of all the _people_ to run into.

In Arizona, _the middle of nowhere_.

He was exhausted, grimy and sweaty, and in need of a shower. Knowing he would be sleeping most of the next day, he assumed he could at least take the time to do that. He'd never been able to sleep after a race unless he'd showered and this was no exception.

He caught himself glaring at the water fixtures, the faucet, the dirt colored water that circled around the drain until finally running clear. By the time he realized that Ruth would not be calling his name from the hallway, telling him to hurry up, the water had become cold. Jesse shivered as he'd gotten dressed, ruffled his hair with the towel in a half hearted attempt to dry it while staring at himself in the mirror.

Looking himself in the eye, he muttered lowly while setting the towel aside.

"Our birthday's this weekend, Ruth Anne...sorry you won't be here for it..."

She never would be, ever again.

* * *

It was his fault Jesse was gone.

It was his fault they both were gone.

It hadn't taken much to move back in to the homestead, he'd bounced between the home he grew up in and the house just outside of town his entire adult life anyway. All he'd had to do was collect his personal belongings. When he put the house up for sale, he'd left nearly all the furnishings with it.

Henry wasn't worried if it didn't sell, it could sit empty for years for all he cared.

But some new manager with the bank had snagged it up, wanting to be closer to town. As long as it wasn't someone from Piston Cup wanting to be closer to the track, he didn't care who took it.

Boxes littered the kitchen table, and were stacked around the couch in the living room. If he stared long enough, he could almost see Jesse curled up in the corner with a quilt that was no longer in the house. If he tried even harder, he could see a pair of kids watching a Saturday morning Disney cartoon...

He'd lost them both. He'd failed them both.

He'd watched Ruth slowly decline, unable to handle how she accepted what was happening. He'd watched helplessly as she'd kept it from their younger brother as much as she could.

He should have talked more with Jesse about it, the denial and angry reaction he'd been avoiding this time one year ago would be welcome to an empty house. He should have spoken to Jesse about a lot of things, but he wasn't Ruth Anne, he didn't know what to say or how to get Jesse to actually admit to something. They were both headstrong Hudson boys who didn't know how to just _open their mouth_ when something was wrong. Instead, it had simmered under the surface for months. If he'd forced Jesse in to talking to him, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if Ruth hadn't died nearly a year ago, Jesse would have stayed.

Maybe if they all hadn't lost their parents so young, they wouldn't have ever been involved with Piston Cup.

But that wasn't how life turned out, and before turning thirty, Henry had resigned himself to the fact that he was the only remaining member of the Hudson family. A family of five, reduced to one.

With an angry huff, he dropped a pile of old mail and paperwork in to a box. Hefting it under one arm, he left the house and glanced toward the drive to see Joan parking her car. Without a word, he continued to the barrel he'd been burning unnecessary items in all morning.

"They were overstaffed. I was told I could leave early."

"Long weekend, then." He commented as he brushed his hands on his jeans, squinting when the sun emerged from behind a cloud.

She only nodded with a faint hum, looking toward the box he'd dropped on the ground. Keeping the subject away from the letters with official Piston Cup headings, she crossed her arms and looked up at him. "You wanna go out later? There's a new place opening up over in Wilmington..."

"Once I've got this taken care of..." He gestured to the box, picking up small stacks at a time to throw in the burn bin.

Joan nodded and stood beside him while they talked over the last week, ignoring the hand written notes Henry would still leave for Jesse on the table whenever he left the house for prolonged periods. Just in case. Old medical bills from the accident, mixed in with a few old statements from Ruth's multiple hospital stays. There were one or two collection notices from back when their mother had been struggling with her health. Henry was tired of seeing them.

She rested her hand on his back in a silent show of support, never knowing what to say when the subject came up. He was as bad as his brother when it came to just _explaining_ the problem or what he was thinking. She knew he hurt, and she shared in that. It still stung to think of walking in to that house and not be greeted by Ruth, and as awkward as they'd been in the past, not seeing Jesse was starting to hurt just as much.

The fire popped, catching some old brittle pieces of cardboard and she glanced over to see the box n the ground was empty. Henry pulled an old envelope from his back pocket, staring at it dully as he turned it over in his hands and tapped it against his fingers briefly.

"What is that?" She murmured.

"Last offer I ever got from a school."

Joan blinked a few times, looking between his face and the letter in his hand. "You were still getting offers?"

"Until '52..." Twenty seven would have been too old to be pitching in baseball, but he'd held on to it...

She bit her lip as he held it over the flame, letting the corner catch first before dropping it in.

"I gave everything for those kids."

His voice was so resigned, so quiet. He wasn't angry, he wasn't bitter. He was hurt.

Her eyes began to sting and she rubbed his back lightly as they stood there, watching it all burn.

"And now they're gone."

* * *

"I think the phone's ringing." Joan spoke quietly as she handed him a glass, gaze concerned as he tended the last of the little fire they'd watched burn out.

"If it's important they'll call back."

Across the country, Jesse shoved the phone off the nightstand after slamming the receiver down. Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision as he silently gasped a breath, secretly hoping Henry would have answered and convinced him to go home.


	66. On Route 66

**January 1956**

"I don't think I need to state the obvious."

"Which would be?"

"That you need to keep your mouth shut."

"Oh." Alex leaned back against the desk behind him and crossed his arms, eyeing his sister with feigned appreciation. "Little Emily finally grow up? Find herself a backbone?"

"Years ago." Her reply was tense and impatient. If he thought that _he_ had anything to do with her realizing she could speak her mind, he was sorely mistaken.

"Threatening doesn't become you." Alex continued. "And I'm sure there are a number of people in that pathetically small town that would love to know where their washed up hero is."

Emily had heard enough through the grape vine, even now with spending the majority of her time in Radiator Springs, she still was fairly up to date on what was going on in the world of Piston Cup.

It had caused quite a stir, and a good amount of outrage, when word got out that Jesse Hudson wouldn't be racing that season, or ever again, in the Piston Cup circuit. Rookies had wanted to test their merit against the reigning veteran and seasoned drivers had just wanted their colleague back. The sport had exploded in 1951 with The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, bringing attention from all over the country. Drivers had wanted to best him, sponsors wanted their drivers to live up to him. Team #51 had been running the sport for years, to only silently disappear after a life threatening accident that could have been prevented.

In protest, some drivers were forcing their sponsors to withhold entry fees, under threat of not driving at all unless their requests be met. Emily had heard that there were a number of meetings taking place within the next few weeks in an attempt to smooth things over. Administration had burned so many bridges she wasn't sure if they'd be able to backtrack fast enough to cover their tracks.

Jesse was still in Radiator Springs, and she was surprised her brother had kept silent this long.

Their first meeting had been horribly rocky. Alex nearly puffing up his chest in an attempt to be intimidating, while Jesse had only regarded him with exhausted apathy, snapping a haphazard retort to anything her brother might throw at him. Arizona was a long way from Georgia, and somehow he'd ended up face to face with two of Piston Cup's most recognized names. She was surprised it hadn't devolved in to a physical fight.

That might have had something to do with Michael being around...Hudson had a thing against cops it seemed.

But he was still in town, as withdrawn and reclusive as she had ever seen anyone, but he hadn't left yet. That had to count for something.

Remembering that she had her own argument to worry about, she continued to press her brother. "That isn't any of your business."

"I think the fireworks might be nice to watch."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and as much as she hated to do it, she turned the situation on him.

"You wanted him gone."

"True."

"So why let anyone know where he is? You're never in Arizona more than a few days, and if you go running around telling everyone you know where Hudson is, they'll ignore everyone else the rest of this season and go crying back to him. I thought you liked him being gone."

Alex had fallen silent and she could tell he didn't like the idea at all. Working his jaw, he gave her a look that suggested he knew exactly what she had just done, and pushed away from the desk. "Fine. I guess I don't know where Hudson is."

She'd thank him if she respected him.

Or believed him.

She wasn't surprised when he suddenly changed the subject, he'd never liked it when he'd been beaten.

"Are you coming to the dinner this weekend?"

"No." She shook her head, she had spent too much time on the east coast for her liking, just long enough for the holidays.

"I'll be in Arizona by tomorrow night."

* * *

The holidays had been quiet in Thomasville, the crew remained silent in their anticipation of the upcoming season. Discussing Piston Cup in front of Henry seemed insensitive.

Discussing Jesse in front of Henry _was_ insensitive...

"I don't understand." Junior muttered while staring at the half empty glass in front of him. Their usual table could seat seven, if they had crowded together and fought for room, pushing each other's elbows off the table and kicking chairs out of the way in a show of friendly rivalry. What once was a loud and raucous corner was quiet and solemn. Only three of them there.

"You think he'll ever join us again?" River spoke to no one in particular, looking away from a group crowding the entrance and back toward the others while ashing his cigarette.

"Smokey?" Lou asked.

"Mmm."

"Eventually..." She paused a moment before nodding. "Just give it time..."

They wouldn't mention Jesse. They were afraid to. He'd left so quickly, so abruptly, that none of them could pinpoint the last time they had spoken to him. He was in the history books, and all over town, but no one had the courage to utter his name.

He was a ghost. A story. Already so large and barely spoken of anymore that he was his own legend.

They knew him.

They'd grown with him.

They'd followed in the wake of a dust cloud, carving their own names in to a sport that he had already taken for his own. Everyone knew who Louise Nash, Junior Moon, and River Scott were.

But they weren't Jesse Hudson.

They hadn't grabbed life by the wheel and forced it to bend to their will, for however short a time. They hadn't gone from not having two pennies to rub together to being the biggest name in the biggest sport of the time in less than two years.

They'd never thought they'd watch some no-name kid emerge from the shadows only to disappear just as quickly.

Had it all really happened?

The only proof was an upgraded lock box of keys at the track, safety regulations they needed to adhere to, a maroon Hudson pick-up seen now and then in town, a two-year weathered headstone in the cemetery...

And a name on the plaque of Piston Cup champions in the Thomasville, Piston Cup office.

That maroon pick-up sat in the driveway of the Hudson homestead. A light dusting of snow had fallen the night before and the breeze swirled it around the windshield of the truck, across the yard and through the ruins of a once flourishing garden. Joan had walked up the steps to the second floor and stood with her arms crossed and shoulders hunched, leaning against the door frame to see Henry sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It's freezing in here."

"Was having trouble with the coal stove...it should warm up pretty quick now..."

She nodded, trying not to bite her lower lip at his tone.

Cold had never bothered him much, or his sister Ruth. It was always Jesse that complained about it.

She tried to stay away from that topic as much as possible, only if he was willing to bring it up.

"Are you coming to the party later?"

Henry rubbed a hand over his face, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, now that I've got that taken care of." He gestured out the door behind her in reference to the work he'd done to repair the stove.

She moved to sit beside him, on Ruth's old comforter, and stared up at the photo of the three siblings in front of Jesse's car.

They'd had their differences, miscommunication between the two. And while she didn't hate him, she was angry with him, if she really allowed herself to be, she would have moments of complete disgust over what he had done to his brother. Sure he was hurting, but Henry was hurting too.

Taking a moment to gather herself, she turned fully toward him. She placed a hand on his back, straightened the collar of his shirt absently before brushing the hair at the nape of his neck gently. "Are you alright...?"

Joan saw the flash of hurt in his eyes before he focused on the picture in front of them, staring for a moment before looking to her and shaking his head. "No."

None of this was right, it never would be.

"No. I'm not alright...but I will be. I have to be. I can't wait anymore..."

She remained silent, knowing there was nothing she could do.

"Because he isn't coming back."

* * *

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

Jesse let his head hang in exaggerated offense, snapping back upright when he'd nearly hit his nose. "Ow-"

"You have a tendency of hitting your head."

"Yeah, you're telling me..." He rubbed at his nose and glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror before looking up out of the driver's side window.

Michael Carwood wasn't impressed, only a few years this kids' senior but _by far_ more matured. "You gunna answer my question?"

"What was the question?"

He over enunciated, and could feel his blood pressure rising when this Hudson fellow allowed a faint grin to peek through.

"Do you know how _fast_ you were going?"

"I dunno." Jesse shrugged immediately. The more annoying he could be the less attention there might be on the fact that there were still dirt tires on the Hornet, or alcohol in the trunk.

Or a flashy jacket in the back seat.

"110 maybe."

He'd gone for a little joy ride. So what.

"Timed you around 125."

"I underestimated you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." He muttered absently while writing in the ticket pad, only half listening to this kid that had been living at The Cozy Cone the last few months.

No one knew anything about him, other than he showed up in the middle of the night after getting a flat tire. He was quiet, kept to himself for the most part until moments like this came along and he pushed Michael's buttons like it was some kind of game he hadn't had a chance at in a while. Like he was sharpening his skills.

"I meant the car."

Michael nearly broke the tip of the pen, looking over his sunglasses to see his own reflection in this kids' aviators and the most smug grin he'd ever seen in his life. "You are a-"

"Yeah, yeah, Sheriff. I've heard it all before. I'm a lousy, good for nothing punk, that-"

"I was going to leave it at Hot Rodder."

"You were _what_?"

The officer flipped the pad closed. "Oh, you're one of those..."

"I'm not a _Hot Rodder_ with a good for nothing, junk car. Who thinks-"

He only stood beside the driver side door, patiently waiting and returning his pen to his pocket. Finally commenting after a moment. "Are you done?"

That seemed to shut the kid up, like he was used to hearing that from someone else.

It didn't last long, though, and that irritating know-it-all grin came back.

"You always this hard on joy riders, Sheriff?"

"I'm just a Deputy-"

"Well with that attitude, obviously."

In frustration, he tore the ticket free and shoved it through the open window. "Pay attention to the speed limits."

"Just gettin' my kicks."

"If this ugly car-"

"Don't listen to him." Jesse muttered with a comforting hand on the steering wheel.

"-is not back at that hotel in five minutes." He threatened.

"But Sheriff." Jesse grinned when he saw the muscle in the officer's jaw twitch. "That would be speeding."

Michael kicked at the tire as he started the engine again. "Go park it somewhere!"

That story made it's rounds later in the evening as everyone had gathered at the V8 for a bit of a belated New Year party. Emily hadn't been able to make it back until after the third, and others had been out of town visiting family as well. As much as Jesse continued to tell her he wanted to hear nothing of the happenings back east, she continued to inform him. The one saving grace being that she at least waited until there was no audience. He wasn't sure why she was so pleasant to him. More than once he had snapped at her in a manner that would have earned him a pinch to the arm or ear tug from Ruth. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at the memory of his last sharp retort.

"Where were you heading, anyway?"

"California." He'd replied dully, before his tone had taken on a biting edge. "Thought I might go see the _Hollywood_ sign."

Jesse sat in a corner both with Michael and Ramone, nursing a coke because Radiator Springs was in a dry county and he couldn't be caught with the shine in the trunk. Though he was sure by now that everyone was aware he had it.

He knew he was the newcomer, once again the dark horse that no one was sure of, but made sure to keep an eye on. He wouldn't be making a flashy entrance, unless of course a blown tire at three in the morning was considered flashy.

He'd become the quiet observer, instead of the loud mouth in need of attention. He kept his back to the wall, only allowing others to see what he wanted them to see.

It was exhausting, but he couldn't handle the alternative.

Jesse Hudson from somewhere-back-east was an easier name to carry than The Fabulous Hudson Hornet of Piston Cup.

He didn't have the shoulders for it anymore.

He ached, he was tired. Most of all, he just wanted to put that name to rest.

He'd surprised himself for staying as long as he had already. He'd never spent more than two weeks anywhere before rolling in to Radiator Springs, Carburetor County, and he continually told himself it was because he just needed to take a little more of a break before hitting the road again.

But he liked it there, flashing neon that reminded him of a life he'd only left recently. Far enough away that he could remain just plain old _Jesse_.

Laughter finally began to die down around the table as the story of that afternoon was finished and Jesse was pulled from his thoughts with a hand on the shoulder.

"You should stay awhile, man. You fit right in."

He looked about the diner, at faces and personalities that reminded him of a small time town in Georgia, but were different enough to keep the ache away.

Michael rolling his eyes at how much everyone loved to hear thathe'd gotten riled, Ramone slapping his shoulder good naturedly. Flo making sure they were all taken care of, and Emily _Piston, of all people..._ listening intently to another story.

The corner of his mouth turned up faintly and he glanced up briefly toward Ramone. "Yeah...maybe I will."


	67. Epilogue

**AN: Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Instead of a massive AN at the end of this chapter, check out my tumblr in the next following days.**

* * *

 **November 2007**

He'd stayed longer than he had originally intended.

Fifty years longer than he had originally intended. At this point in his life he wasn't exactly going to be picking up and leaving town.

That was what dumb kids in their twenties did.

He could barely remember what his twenties felt like.

He wasn't that kid from the '50s anymore. His hair was no longer dark, his joints ached more days than not. The doctor in him told him it was old age, the racer told him it was old hurts from days long gone.

Whatever it was, he just knew he wasn't young anymore.

Jesse had never left Radiator Springs, completely anyway. As a semi-retired physician in a town even smaller than Thomasville, there were still days he wondered why he had chosen that particular profession. All through medical school and his residency, he'd silently questioned himself. Even as an attending physician to younger students, fact checking the medical report of a resident's diagnosis, he'd questioned himself on _why_ this was who he had become. To tell Jesse Hudson, in 1952, that in ten-plus years he'd be reading medical journals and attending conferences to maintain his license to practice medicine he would have laughed aloud. Yet there he was, sitting at the wooden desk in the garage and thumbing through a bulletin for the next required forum. He turned the registration card over in his hand and leaned back in the swivel chair.

Life sure was funny.

Setting the forms aside, he leaned an elbow against the arm of his chair and studied the Hornet across from him. It had always been a massive vehicle, flashy in its own right, but now with the former Fabulous paint job restored to its former glory it seemed ten times bigger than before. He'd forgotten how eye catching the colors were, how the white had contrasted so nicely with the 1950 J-36 Legion Blue. He'd forgotten how proud he'd been of such a recognizable image.

The garage was his retreat, as much as his office within the clinic was. Worlds apart, the two spaces held two very different aspects of his life. For years each space had held only one side. Mounted on the wall in the office was his license to practice, certificates of achievement from UCSF, and published reports. Maybe a few pictures here and there on the desk that meant something personal to him, but for the most part it was what one expected of a doctor's personal work space.

His desk in the garage was barely visible beneath a menagerie of framed photos now, ranging from 1950 to the end of current racing season. A few of them had snuck their way in to the clinic, but he preferred them in his personal quarters. They didn't need to be seen by everyone. They were his.

Glancing away from the Hornet and back to the desk, he eyed each photo silently. Decades of his life displayed in images, some black and white, a few in color.

Ruth sitting alone in the bleachers some afternoon he must have been practicing. The Hudson siblings at the beach, the Hornet barely recognizable under a layer of mud and grass after a race. The Butte. California. UCSF. A twenty-something year old Michael looking gobsmacked as a group of cows passed his cruiser. Himself and Emily in front of the clinic when he had graduated medical school, another of them when they'd visited Washington state a few years later, with Mount Rainier in the distance.

Years of his life laid out in images. A picture was supposed to speak a thousand words, but he couldn't come up with a single one.

The latest photo, so new he hadn't even had a chance to put it in a frame yet, was some hotshot rookie who only a year ago thought the world revolved around him. He held his very first Piston Cup, looking grimy and exhausted, but smiling with a Piston Cup Champion baseball cap covering sweat slicked hair as he stood with an arm around his crew chief.

To think Jesse would ever stand in a winner's circle again, _smiling_...

His musings were interrupted when the heavy barn doors creaked open.

"You coming or what, old man?"

He turned the swivel chair, watching the kid with a raised brow. "Waiting on you."

Lightning McQueen, 2007 Piston Cup Champion, stepped in to the garage to give him an incredulous look. " _You are no-_ oh." He fell silent abruptly and blinked a few times to see a small carry on bag near the trunk of the Hornet. "I guess you are. My bad."

"Grammar, kiddo."

An eye roll, similar to how he may have reacted at that age. "Forgive me for my poor assumption. Shall we be going?"

* * *

He hadn't been near the east coast in decades, especially anywhere near a venue like this. He remained stone-faced while the rookie oohed and ahhed over the most mundane amenities. Once you had seen a topiary in the shape of a Piston Cup, you had seen them all.

It had been like pulling teeth to get him to agree to attend that years' end of the season banquet, and the only reason he had finally given in was because it was the kid's first Piston Cup. He could swallow his pride for a few hours, just long enough to hear the kid stumble over an acceptance speech, in much the same way he had in 1951.

He felt ancient when thinking back on it...

The lights were brighter, the press more aggressive. He'd become too used to his quiet life in Arizona, and he couldn't help but catch himself thinking of it while removing the coffee stirrer from the ornate cup in front of him, (still gold trimmed...) and unfolding the back linen napkin to rest on one knee.

He was doing this for the kid, he reminded himself. McQueen should have been the first rookie to ever win a Piston Cup, maybe more deserving than _he_ should have been back in '51, but Lightning had worked harder, hustled harder, and driven harder than anyone he'd seen in a long time. The kid deserved this, and if he really had to be there for it, he assumed he could stand a few hours before a flight back home.

He'd rather be sitting back at that desk, maybe penning a letter that would go unanswered, or even just staring at the pictures that filled the space would be better than listening to some self entitled pencil pusher yammer on about how great a season it had been. Some things never changed...

He huffed faintly to himself, drying the rim of the coffee cup with his thumb. The kid hadn't been able to keep a secret if his life depended on it, and he'd been made aware that not only was McQueen supposed to be getting the 2007 Piston Cup, but apparently they'd decided to make some new award (funny how that worked...) to do with lifetime achievement, and that he would be receiving it.

He'd achieved so much in life, he didn't need some gold paper weight to prove it...

He'd risen in the ranks of Piston Cup, was known nationwide for his _driving_. He'd survived the most horrific crash witnessed up unto that point. He'd picked himself up, tried to dust himself off, but it had clung to him. Everywhere he went, the dirt of Piston Cup followed.

He'd left the state, traveled west, never made it to California permanently. He'd attended school there, but Arizona had always called him back.

A dirt track outside of town had continually taunted him, knowing that it wouldn't be long until a navy blue Hornet and the kid with oil in his veins would need to return. Maybe not for the prestige of the name, of owning the track, but trying to return to the kid who'd been content with the idea of just _driving._ Of speed, and adrenaline, and skill, and three wheel breaks, and white knuckles, and _dirt._

That was what he had told himself for a long time anyway, and while the track had lured him in, it was really because of the girl.

It had been their private joke, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, missing Piston Cup driver, and the Princess of Piston.

They had married in '58. Children had never happened, but they had been alright with that. She'd always told him he was a big enough baby anyway.

She'd passed two years ago...

He wished she was here to see this.

Piston Cup had only been a few years of his life, unimportant in the bigger picture. Four years was nothing at his age. In '52 he might have thought racing defined him, and while it still held a piece of his heart, it wasn't who he was. The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. A kid from small town Georgia, who'd made a name for himself only to have it stripped away by those more powerful.

The kid had mocked him once, _a doctor, judge and a racing expert_ , but those didn't define him.

He was a Georgian, moonshine runner, youngest sibling and twin, driver, doctor, judge, crew chief, husband and now widower.

Beneath all of that, beneath every title or name he could come up with. He was only Jesse Aaron Hudson, youngest child to Henry and Sarah.

There had been a time when he had considered his life an open road, and then it _had_ become an open road for however short a time. Those years in Piston Cup felt like they hadn't amounted to much, but they had made him who he was. From losing Ruth to finding himself suddenly across the country. Every road block, detour, speed bump and U turn had been preparing him for something, and sitting at that table, surrounded by faces he didn't recognize, he couldn't help but think it was for a loud mouth rookie who had crashed through town in the middle of the night.

Could he have gone without the heartache? Absolutely, but it may have never brought him here...

Applause throughout the dining hall interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see that Lightning had taken his place on the stage.

"I uh-" Lightning huffed with a faint laugh, shifting in front of the mic. The ego of his rookie season was nowhere in sight as he glanced about the expansive room.

"I have to ask forgiveness first of all, this was supposed to be a surprise and I'm sure I've disappointed a number of people with the fact that this is _not_ a surprise at all. I couldn't keep this to myself and within two days of being notified that I would be presenting this award, I had completely spilled to Doc- Mr.- _Dr_. Hudson-"

He laughed again and took a deep breath to slow down, having a feeling that had come out in unintelligible rush that no one understood. He couldn't see Doc through the stage lights but he was sure he had his arms crossed and was shaking his head slowly in disappointment.

He was half right.

Jesse had leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms but seeing the kid trip over himself in front of a few hundred people, fellow drivers, teams, sponsors, administration, officials, stock holders, cameras, and reporters, was too amusing to really be too upset. He could tell there was a camera off to his right, probably trained right on him but he'd learned to ignore those decades ago.

The corner of his mouth turned up as Lightning continued.

"-I also knew that if it was a surprise, and it was made public that I knew, I'd be dead. And because I very much enjoy being alive-" He paused and grinned at the reaction of amusement from the room. "-don't upset a doctor, ok. Anyway-"

Jesse couldn't help but huff at that remark. The kid did know this was on national television didn't he?

"...I shared with my crew chief, Jesse Hudson, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, that not only were we attending so that his driver could receive the 2007 Cup, but that he was to be awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award for outstanding records, many of which are yet to be broken and have held steady since the early fifties."

There was no teleprompter and he held no index cards. Lightning's tone took on a serious edge, his humor subsiding and the enormity of the task he'd been given suddenly became apparent. He straightened, glancing up once to make eye contact with the camera televising live on RSN before addressing the room again.

"Growing up all I ever wanted to do was race. From the time I was old enough to walk I was driving my mother crazy with pretending to be a famous race car driver as I ran through the house, tripping, knocking things off end tables, and in some cases giving myself black eyes with my recklessness. As I got older I learned everything I could, _read_ everything I could on all the greats. It's been such a privilege to meet a number of those people that for so long were only a name and stats on a page."

He hadn't expected to get long-winded, but once he started, Lightning couldn't find a good stopping point.

"My biggest heroes are the drivers who really gave it their all. Their work really paved the way for the rest of us-" Lightning hesitated briefly, gathering his thoughts. "-and it was one name that always stood out above the rest when I was a kid, when I was supposed to be asleep in bed because it was a school night. Instead, I sitting cross-legged on the floor of my closet with a flashlight in my hand, reading about a changing game and growing momentum in a sport that was fast, new, and exciting. For hours I would pore over black and white photos, and the only regret I've ever had is that I never got the chance to see it in color.

Jesse Hudson is a name synonymous with racing. Would it have become what it is if he'd never entered his first race? Possibly. Did it continue to grow without him? Yes. But Piston Cup was flipped on its head in 1951 and was never the same again. We only have him to thank for that. Who after 50 years, still holds the title of most wins in a single season."

Applause had begun to break through his speech before he'd finished and Lightning knew he'd be waiting a while if he remained silent, so instead he spoke over those in attendance, taking a wall plaque and award from a very new and very green looking administrator.

"I'm honored to have the privilege of awarding the Piston Cup Lifetime Achievement Award to my crew chief, and mentor, Jesse Hudson."

That was his cue, and he hated this part no matter how old he was. He'd dreaded it in the '50s and he dreaded it now. He was supposed to say something, wax poetic about how life comes full circle.

What he wanted to say was that this kid had been thrown in to his life and ruined it the moment he ruined the road.

But that wasn't true.

He'd wanted McQueen to grow up and in turn realized he'd needed to do the same.

He still had hurts, physical and emotional, but that was life. He'd so carefully bottled everything up, hiding it on a shelf in his garage that it would probably take another entire lifetime to unravel. He didn't have the time or patience for that. He'd never had the time or patience for something like that.

He'd keep his comments short and sweet, which was still more than what he offered during interviews in the pits. Barely giving a full answer to any questions posed, but he couldn't pretend to be busy now. He once again had the full attention of Piston Cup.

Except now he didn't want it.

It was the kid's turn to shine. He'd had his moment, and as painful as it had been when it came to an abrupt end, that's exactly what had happened, it had ended.

He probably said something sounding vaguely transcendental, he'd have to go back and watch the copy that was being recorded back home. This award was supposed to be for him, but he wasn't thinking of himself. He was the last one in his own thoughts...

Ruth was a dull ache by now. Decades after losing her, it still tore him apart that he hadn't been there when she passed. He didn't speak of her nearly as much as she deserved, but it still hurt too much. He'd never learned how to think of her without the immediate reminder of those last weeks before her death.

Emily was a sharper, more persistent pain he had learned to live with. Forty-six years of marriage was a lifetime, but it still hadn't been enough for him.

Then there were a whole slew of ghosts back in Thomasville, Georgia, who were seething and probably glaring at him this very moment. Refusing to speak to him but making sure their anger and resentment at the moment was loud and clear. And it certainly was...

For being a doctor, he'd never learned how to care for personal wounds very well...

Maybe if he hadn't been so stubborn, maybe if he'd slowed down, the way he thought McQueen needed to learn, there wouldn't be so many messes left to clean up, but instead of dwelling on that, he looked back toward the _rookie_ , the 2007 Piston Cup Champion. Lightning stood politely to the side, hands clasped in front of himself in a freshly pressed tux. A far cry from the hooligan that had paraded through town and ruined their main road.

"Life will definitely lead you in directions you don't expect." Jesse nodded faintly, leaning toward the podium but looking between the audience and Lightning. "Racing is known for being one big turn to the left."

That gained a few faint laughs and murmurs over the long-standing joke.

"No one tells you that life can throw you in to the ditch, or spinning in to the wall. No one tells you about the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, or the speed bump on that highway marked 70mph."

That gained some more laughter.

"But it does seem to get you to where you need to be." Ignoring the audience, he turned and looked directly at Lightning. The rookie who had ruined his life one year before by dragging him back in to something he wanted nothing to do with. The one thing he had avoided nearly his entire life. The one thing he'd needed to face on his own, to finally begin the healing process after so long.

"You know what we always say about left turns?"

Lightning nodded, smiling faintly.

"Well." He grinned tightly, chest aching with pride. "I think this time I finally got it right."


End file.
